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THE LUCK

Of the zM^ounted

•r THE SAME AUTHOR I

BENTON

Of the lioyal .Jttounted

A TALE OF

THE ROYAL NORTHWEST

MOUNTED POLICE

"A genuine classic of the great
Northwest." - New Ymk Tribune. I

THE LUCK

Of the <J}(Counted

A TALE OF THE ROYAL
NORTHWEST MOUNTED POLICE

Sergeant RALPH S. KENDALL

EX-MEMBER OF THE R. N. W. M. P.

This truest of stories confirms beyond doubt
That truest of adages— " Murder will out ! "
In vain may the blood-spitler "double" and fly.
In vain even wiuhcraft and sorcery try:
Jlthougbfor a time he may 'scape, byand-by
He'll be sure to be caught by a Hue and a Cry !

THE INGOIDSBY LEGENDS

TORONTO: S. B. GUNDY

NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY

MCMXX

fii-:

^i X >

COPYRIOHT-IgSO
BV JOHN LANE COMPANY

THIPtmpTOKpiEs

noiwooo-mss-o.s.,

«»4lli*40

MY OLD COMRADES

PRESENT, AND EX-MEMBERS OF THE

R.N.W.M. POLICE

THIS WORK IS DEDICATED
WITH EVERY KIND THOUGHT

THE LUCK

Of the <jKCounted

THE
LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

CHAPTER I

O sing m a song of days that are gone —
Of men and happenings — oj war and peace;
We loie to yam of "th" times that waj"
As our hair grows gray, and our years increase.
So — revert we again to our ancient lays —
Fill we our pipes, and our glasses raise —
"Salutel to those stirring, bygone days!"
Cry the old non-coms of the Mounted Police

MEMOrcIES

ALL day long the blizzard had raged, in one con-
tinuous squaUing moaning roar — the fine-spun
snow swirling and drifting about the barrack-
buildings and grounds of the old Mounted Police
Post of L. Division. Whirrarul-eel -thrumm-mm!
hummed the biting nor'easter through the cross-tree
rigging of the towering flag-pole in the centre of the
wind-swept square, while the, slapping flag-halyards
kept up an infernal "devil's tattoo." With snow-
bound roof from which hung huge icicles, like walrus-
tjsks, the big main building loomed up, ghostly and

xo THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
indistinct, amidst tJie whirling, white-wreathpH ,.
save where, from the lighted windol Cd sTjl '
of radiance stabbed the surrounding gC rlfT
- <|.ving snow-spume li. dust^r^a^T^J

night in South Alberta ""' ^"'""'y

bWd,pad^^:trlr^m::::L:^r«

the pathway leading t. the Ln bu^'r^J"^ ?''
7 ''^ destination, he dived hastily throug-^rrht
storm-doors of the middle entrance w"r,. '^

and banged them to. ""° "^^ P^*^'

Flanking him on either sidp in »,.i
the bitter world outsid" te '.^^S 7/ 7^' "^
sight of two inviting p;rSs^l '^:/"-^^'»'«"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED „
reason best known to himself, he steadily ignored both,
for the time being, and passing on began Swly to
mount a short flight of stairs at the end of the passage
Sweet music beguiled each reluctant step of his
ascent: the tinkle of a :,iano accompaniment to a roar-
ing jovial chorus frc „ the canteen assuring him with
plaintiv;, but futile insistence just tiien, tiiat-

Beer, beerl vias ilorious beer, etc.

Reaching tiie landing he paused for a space in an
intent listening attitude outside ti,e closed door of a
room marked No. 3 From witiiin came the sounds of
men's voices raised in a high-pitched, gabbling alterca-
tion.

Turning swifUy to an imaginary audience, his ex-
pressive young comitenance contorted into a grimace of
unholy glee, the listener flung aloft his arms and
bhtiiely executed a few noiseless steps of an impromptu
war-dance.

"They're at it againl" he muttered ecstatically
Some seconds he capered tiius in pantomime; tiien,
as swiftiy composing his features into a mask-like ex-
pression, he turned tiie handle and entered. On the
big thermometer nailed outside the Orderly-room die

" THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

aTZT.'"' "'^'""' ""^""'"^ »>«'*"„ twenty
and thirty below zero, but in.ide Barrack-room Not
the temperature at that n,on,ent was warm en^^gh

cenTrrH ""'*' '' "''" """ "' « '°»« ^We inTe
centre of the room, busily engaged i„ cleaning thdr
accoutrements, glanced up casually at his enlace

irt T"'"« '"■'" ^ p^--p'ed sat :;

^mble, they bent to their furbishing with the brisk
conce„.ation pecliar to "Service men" the worid „ tr

lashion, they kept alive the embers nf » t .

xr^-r-- their res'^^rrvr^rr
":^sr '"'''"•"' •""^^''■-- '•^■- -d

Both were clad in brown duck "fatigue slacks » the
Z L ""'''^ ^°^*^™« °f both men were

=f„. 1. : ^ "^"' sirnilarly habited lav

' "•*"' """"^K over on his sr'de, he re-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED ,3
lapsed once more into the arms of Morpheus — his
nasal organ proclaiming that fact beyond doubt.

The orderly aspect of the room bore mute evidence
of regimenul discipline. The blankets — with the
sheets placed in the centre -were strapped into a
neat roll at the head of each tartan-rugged cot, at
the foot of which lay a folded black oil-sheet. Ab^ve,
on a small shelf, were the spare uniform and Stetson
hat, flanked on either side by a pair of high brown
-Strathcona" riding-boots, with straight-shanked
"cavalry-jack" spurs attached. On pegs underneath
hung ^le regulation side-arms, — a "Sam Browne"
belt and holster containing the Colt's .45 Service re-
iver. A rifle-rack at the end of the room contained
i quota of Winchester carbines.
The last arrival, whom the sleeper had designated
"Redmond," proceeded to divest himself of his short
fur coat and, after dashing the snow from it and his
muskrat-faced cap, unbuckled his side-arms, and hung
all up at the head of his own particular cot.

Flashing across our retrospective mind-screens, as
at times we dreamily delve into the past, beloved faces
come and go. Forever in the memory of the writer,
as his ideal conc^tion of healthy, virile splendid Youth

14 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

personified, will stand the bronzed, debonair, clean-
shaven young face of George Redmond - or "Reddy "
as he was more familiarly dubbed by his comrades of
L. Division.

Handsome his countenance could not have been
termed -the features were too strongly-marked and
roughly-hewn. But it was an undeniably open, attrac
tive and honest one - the sort of face that instinctively
invited ,'s "Hail, fellow, well met!" trust at first
sight. His hair was dark auburn in colour, short and
wavy with a sort of golden tinge in it; his forehead
was broad and open, and below it were two uncom-
monly waggish blue eyes. His habitual expression was
a mixture of nonchalant good humour and gay in-
souciance, but the slightly aquiline, prominent nose
and the set of the square aggressive jaw belied in a
i-easure the humourous curl of the lips.

Those who knew his disposition well were fully
aware how swiftly the mocking smile could vanish from
that indolent young face on occasion - how unpleas- .
antly those wide blue orbs could contract beneath
scowling brows into mere pin-points of steel and ice
Slightly above middle height, well-set-up and strongly'
though not heavily made, the lines of his clean-built

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 15

figure suggested the embodiment of grace, strength
and activity.

He was dressed in the regulation winter uniform of
the Force, consisting of a scarlet-serge tunic, dark-
blue cord riding breeches with the broad yellow stripe
down the side, thick black woollen stockings reaching
to the knee, and buckskin moccasins with spurs
attached. Over the stockings, and rolled tightly down
upon the tops of the moccasins as snow-excluders,
were a pair of heavy gray socks.

Wriggling out of his tightly-fitting red serge he
carelessly flung that arUcle onto the next cot; then,
filling and lighting a pipe, he stretched out comfortably
upon his own. With hands clasped behind his head he
lazily watched the two previously-mentioned men at
their cleaning operations, his expressive face registering
indolent but mischievious interest, as he listened to
their wrangling.

"Nol" resumed one of the twain emphatically, apro-
pos of some previous contention, "No, by gum! this
division ain't what it used to be in them days."

He gave vent to a reminiscent sigh as he spat upon
and rubbed up some powdered brick-dust.
"Billy Herchmer was O.C, Fred Bagley was Ser-

*:'

i6 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

geant-Major — and there was Hany Hetherington,
Ralph Bell, De Barre, Jeb Stowne, Pennycuik, and aU
them old-timers. Eyah! th' times that wasl th' times
that wasl Force's aU filled up now mostly with 'Smart
Aleck' kids, like Reddy, here, an' " -he shot a glance
of calculating invitation at his vis-4-vis, Hardy — " 'old
sweats' from the Old Country Imperials."

Artfully to start some trivial but decidedly inflam-
mable barrack-room argument was one of Corporal
Dave McCullough's pet diversions. At this somewhat
doubtful pastime he would ethibit a knowledge of
human nature and an infinite patience worthy of a
better object. From some occult reasoning of his
Celtic soul the psychological moment he generally
chose as being likely the most fruitful of results was
eiflier a few minutes before, or after 'Xights Out."

When the ensuing conflagration had blazed to the de-
sired stage he would quietly extinguish his own vocal
torch and lie back on his cot with a sort of "Mark
Antony" "Now let it work!" chuckle. "Getting their
goats" he termed it. Usually though, when the storm
of bad language and boots had subsided, his dupes
too, like those of "Silver Street" were wont to scratch
their heads and commune one with another —

— begod, 1 wondtr wkyt

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 17
He was a heavy-shouldered man; middle-aged, with
thick, crisp iron-gray hair and moustache and a pair
of humourous brown eyes twinkling in a lined, weather-
beaten face. His slightly nasal voice was dry and
penetrating to the point of exasperation. For many
years he had acted as "farrier" to L. Division.

George warily accepted the share of the pleasantry
extended to him with a shrug, and a non-committal
grin. But Hardy chose to regard it as a distinct
challenge, and therefore a promising bone of conten-
tion. He gloated over it awhile ere pouncing.

A medium-sized, wiry, compactly-built man bodily,
Hardy bore lightly the weight of his forty-five years.
His hair was of that uncertain sandy colour which
somehow never seems to turn gray; the edges of the
crisply-curling forelock being soaped, rolled and
brushed up into that approved tonsorial ornament
known in barrack-room parlance as a "quiff." His
complexion was of that peculiar olive-brown shade
especially noticeable in most Anglo-IndJ 3. In his
smart, soldierly aspect, biting, jerky Cockney speech
and clipped, wax-pointed moustache he betrayed un-
mistakably the ex-Imperial cavalry-man.
"Old sweats I" he echoed sarcastically — he pro-

18 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

nounced it <'aoweld»_"Yas- you go tell that t' th'
Mames, me ladl . . . Took a few y th' sime .oTd

o you mossbacks at th' stort orf. Geel Karl „h
^rblimey yas," He illustrated his tren Jant^elks'
in suggestive pantomime.

sayi^-.Or,r""?' '"'"•^'^' "■^"' '^-- th'
saym — Old soldier — old stiff?' »

His adversary burnished a spur ' viciously "Old
Pleeceman - old son of a - " he retorted with a spU
ful gnn. "W'y, my old Kissiwasti here knows I
abaht drill'n wot you do." He indicated a lerT
r^u^b e-looki„g gray parrot, preening itself nc^
which stood upon a cot nearby. ^

At the all-familiar sound of its name the biid sud
denly ceased its monotonous beak and d.w
for a snarp K« ■ ^'^^ gymnastics

ftere came a prehmmary craning of neck and winkin.

of white-parchment-lidded eves pn^ ♦;, • ^'"^
,-r.„i u "jucu eyes, and then, in short

wgly human fashion it proceeded f„ • ,

L Z m. •" »"«''™ "«M have ,„k„.j

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 19

his eyes and, in a strong cereal accent gave vent to a
somnolent peevish protest.

"Losh! . . . whot wi' you fellers bickerin' an' yon
damn bird currsin' I canna sleep! . . . gie th' — "
Cut Hardy silenced him with a warning finger.
"Sh-sh! McSporran!" he hissed in a loud eager
whisper, "Jes' 'awk t' im? . . . gort th' real reg'mental
tatch 'as old Kissiwasti! ain't he?" — his face shone
with simple pride — "d' yer 'ken' that? sh-sh! listen
now! . . Yer shud 'ear 'im s'y 'Oot, mon!' . . .
'Awk t'im up an' tellin'yer w'y th' Jocks wear th' kUts."
Awhile McSporran listened, but with singular lack of
enthusiasm. Presently, swinging his legs over the side
of the cot with a weary sigh, he proceeded to fill his
pipe. He was a thick-set, grey-eyed fair man about
thirty, with a stolid, though shrewd, clean-shaven face.
"Best ye stickit tae wha' ye ca' 'English,' auld mon! "
he remarked irritably, "Baith yersel' an' yer plurry

pairrut Ou ay, I ken!— D'ye ken John

Peel? — "

Aad, in derision he hummed a few lines of a rather
vulgar parody of that ancient song that obtained
around Barracks.

"Say, by gad, though! that bird is a fright!" ejacu-

out tracts like that when the O C suT '" '° ''^"'^
he'll get invested with the Ord;r o^Tk ^x' ""'^^"^

^ey the quartermaster, havThi J h! '^' ^""''-

other day and heard Wm H. ""' "^ ^^'" *<=

^id he'd like to buy hZ" of ""' *"^"^ '" ''^* -
finish his education » ''°"' ""^ ''^P '^^ ««■ -

"Oh, 'e did, did 'e?» growled H,,^
«;"' with iii^oncealed inte^^ "W^f? ™""'"'"^'^'
t' 'ave 'iml» He breathJl . ' " ^"" «■«»'»'

-«^h«^>-ttohi:::Sor.^::,^-^'-"^

connosser I will admit " h» B^nkley « some

Kissiwasti's got otT' W "T '"''^■"«'^' "''"t

dahn there-took 'is dZtt"?/,"''"""^^
tike an' 'ang 'is kvrl<,» ^ ' P^*" ^ "ster

"•din school'o ?.' 1^ :,^V""^ ^"^'^ '•" ^■
«•' ridin' master w sTreZ'" 'T '" ^'"^"P^"'
'toppin' orf wot? -. '" ^ """'* °' 'ookies

Hardy'll be hZ "^ '^*^* '''^e him?

y" be happy enough in Hen, so long as hec;;

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 21
have his bloomin' old blackguard of a parrot along
with him. If he can't there will be a pretty fuss."

"Bear up, Hardy 1" comforted George. "When
you've got that 'quiff' of yours all fussed up, and thcsi
new 'square-pushin' ' dress-pants on you're some 'hot
dog.' . . . Now, if I thought you could 'talk pretty'
and behave yourself I'd — "

The old soldier grinned diabolically. "Sorjint?" he
broke in mincingly "c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister?

— gam, Reddy! wipe orf yer chin! . . . though if
I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th' sime
fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you — to
a lydy-fren' o' er's, p'raps. . . ."

"Say what?" demanded George incautiously.
Hardy chuckled again. " 'Ere comes one o' them
Mounted Pleecemen, me dear, — orl comb an' spurs,

— mark time in front there. . . !" And he emitted
an imitation of a barnyard cackle.

McCullough shot a glance at Redmond's face. "Can
th' grief" he remarked unsympathetically, "you're fly
enough usually ... but you fairly asked for it that
time."

Hardy spat into a cuspidor with long-range accuracy.
He beamed with cheerful malevolence awhile upon his

22 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

tormentors; then, uplifting a cracked falsetto in an
unmusical wail, to the tune of "London Bridge is
i'allmg Down," assured them that —

"OU ,ow,li»s never die, never die, never die.
Old soweliers never — "

With infinite mockery Redmond's boyish voice
struck in —

"Young soldUrs wish they would, wish they-"

"'Ere!" remonstrated Hardy darkly, "chuck it,
Keddy! ... You know wot 'appens t' them as starts
in a-guyin' old soweljers?-eh? - Well, I tell yer
now! - worse'n wot 'appened ' Jiem fresh kids in th'
Bible wot mocked th' old blowke abaht 'is bald 'ead "
"fsch ga bibblel I don't care! " bawled the abandoned
George; "can't be much worse than doing 'straight
duty round Barracks, here! -same thing, dayjn, day
out -go and look at the 'duty detail' board -Reri-
mental Number - Constable Redmond, 'prisoner's es-
cort -punching gangs of prisoners around all day
long, on little rotten jobs about Barracks -and 'night
guard' catching you every third night and — "
"Oyez! oyez! oytz! you good men of this-"
"Oh, yes! you can come the funny man all right
Mac- you've got a 'staff' job. Straight duty don't

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 23

affect you. Why don't they shove me out on detach-
ment again, and give me another chance to do real
police work? ... I tell you I'm fed up -properly.
... I wish I was out of the blooming Force — I'm
not 'wedded' to it, like you."

'"Ear, 'ear!" chimed in Hardy, with a sort of
miserable heartiness. McSporran's contribution was
merely a dour Scotch grin. In the moment's silence
that followed a tremendous bawling squall of wind
rocked the building to its very foundations. The
back-draught of it sucked open the door, and, borne
upon Its wings, the roaring, full-chorused burst of a
popular barrack-room chantey floated up the stairs
from the canteen below —

"Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he —
Re called for his pipe, and he called for his ilass
And he called for his old M.P."

Outside the blizzard still moaned and howled; every
now and then, between lulls, screeching gusts of sleet
beat upon the windows. Thp parrot, clinging upside
down to the roof of its cage, winked rapidly with
Sphmx-like eyes and inclined its head sideways in an
intent listening attitude.

ilf

24 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Eyahl but th' Force's a bloomin' good home to
some of you, all th' same," growled McCullough.
"Listen to that 'norther'? . . . How'd you like to be

chucked out into th' cold, cold world right now?

You, Hardy 1 that's never done nothin' but 'soldier' all
your life — you, Reddyl with your 'collidge edu-
kashun'?"

George, unmoved, listened respectfully awhile, lying
on his stomach with his chin cupped in his hands.
"Must have been a great bunch of fellows when you
first took on the Force, Dave?" he queried presently.

From sheer force of habit the old policeman glanced
at his interlocutor suspiciously. But that young
gentleman's face appearing open and serene, merely
expressing naive interest, he grunted an affirmative
"Uh-huh!" and backed his conviction with a cheer-
ful oath.

"Ah, they sure was. But where are they all now?"
he rambled on in garrulous reminiscence, "some of 'em
rich — some of 'em broke — an' many of 'em back on
th' old Force again, an' glad to get their rations.
There was some that talked like you, Mister Bloomin'
Reddy! —fed up, an' goin' to quit — an' did quit —
for a time. There was Corky Jones, I mind. Him

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 25
that used to blow 'bout th' wonderful jobs he'd got
th' pick of when he was 'time-ex.' All he got was
'reeve' of some litUe shi-poke burg down south.
Hooshomin its real name, but they mostly call it
Hootch thereabouU. A rotten little dump of 'bout
fifty inhabitants. They're drunk half th' time an' wear
e?ch other's clothes. Ugh! filthy beggars! . . . He's
back on th' Force again. There was Gadgett Malone.
Proper dog he was — used to sing 'Love me, an' th'
Wo'Id is Mine.' He got all balled up with a widder,
first crack out o' th' box, an' she snook him down for
his roll an' put th' skids under him in great shape in-
side of a month. He's back on th' Force again. There
was Barton McGuckin. When he pulled out he shook
hands all around, I mind. Yes, sir! with tears in his
eyes he did. Told us no matter how high he rose in th'
world he'd never forget his old comrades — always
rec'gnize 'em on th' street an' all that. On his way
down town he was fool enough to go into one 0' these
here Romany Pikey dives for to get his fortune told.
This gypsy woman threw it into him he was goin' to
make ' 's fortune in th' next two or three days by in-
vestin' his dough in a certain brand of oil shares. . . ."
McCullough paused and fiUed his pipe with elaborate

26 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
care, "Th' last time I see him he was in th' buildin'
an' contractin' line — carryin' a hod an' pushin' an
Irishman's buggy . . . There's — but, aw hell ! what's
th' use o' Ulkin'?" he concluded disgustedly. "No!
times ain't what they was, by gum! — rough stuff an'
all things was run more real reg'mental them days —
not half th' grousin' either."

"Reel reg'mental?" echoed Hardy minclngly, "aowe
gorblimey! 'awk t'im? well, wot abaht it? I've done
my bit, too! —in Injia. See 'ere; look!"

He pulled up the loose duck-pant of his right leg.
On the outside of the hairy, spare but muscular limb,
an ugly old dirty-white scar zigzagged from knee to
ankle.

"Paythan knife," he informed them briefly, "but I
did th' blowke in wot give it me." He launched into
a lurid account of a border hill-scuffle that his regi-
ment had been engaged in relating all its ghastly de-
tails with great gusto. "Cleared me lance-point ten
times that d'y," he remarked laconically. "Flint was
aour Orf'cer Commandin' — Old 'Doolally Flint' —
'ard old 'ranker' 'e wos. 'E'd worked us sumphin'
crool that week. Night marches an' wot not. I tell
yer that man 'ad no 'eart for men or 'orses. An' you

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 27
tork abaht bein' reel reg'mental, Mad ... 'e wos
a reg'mental old soor if yer like! ... Fit to drop we
wos - wot wos left 0' us, an' th' bloody sun goin' down
an' all. But nol 'e give us no rest -burial fat.gue
right away. Free big trenches we buried aour pore
fellers in — I can see 'en now. . . ."

For some few seconds he ceased polishing his
glossy, mahogany-shaded "Sam Browne" belt, and,
chin in hand, stared unseeingly straight in front of
him. His audience waited. "Arterwards!" he cleared
his throat, "arterwards - w'en we'd filled in 'e made
us put th' trimmin's on-line 'em out 'ead an' foot
W.V big bowlders. T mind I'd jes kem a-staggerin' ap
wiv a big stowne for th' 'ead o' Number Free trench
but Doolally kep me a-markin time till 'e wos ready'
'Kem ap a bit. Private 'Ar.iy,' 'e sez, 'kem ap a bit!
you're aht o' yer dressin'!' 'e sez. 'Arry Wagstaff as
wos m Number Two Squordron 'e pulls a bit o' chork
aht of 'is pocket, an' 'e marks on 'is bowlder in big
fat letters 'Lucky soors-in bed ev'ry night' -but
old Doolally 'appened to turn rahnd an' cop 'im at it
Drum-'ead coort-martial 'Arry gort for that, an' drew
ten d'ys Number One Field Punishment. But that wos
old Doolally all over. . . yer might s'y 'e 'adn't no sense

28 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

o' 'umor, that man. Down country we moves next d'y,
for Peshawur, where th' reg'ment lay. We'd copped a
thunderin' lot o' prisoners — th' Mullah an' all."

"Wha' d'ye ca' a Mullah?" queried McSporran, with
grave interest.

Hardy, carbine-barrel between knees — struggled
with a "pull-through." "Mullah? well, 'e's a sorter —
sorter 'ead blowke," he mumbled lamely.

"Kind of High Priest?" ventured George.

The old soldier beamed upon him gratefully, "Ar,
that's wot I meant. 'E stunk that 'igh th' Colonel 'e
sez — "

The storm doors banged below. "Redmond! —oh,
Redmond!" The great, booming, bass voice rang
echoing up the stairway. Involuntarily they all sprang
to an attitude of alert attention. Rarely did Tom
Belcher have to speak twice around Barracks.

"There's the S.M.!" muttered George. Aloud he
responded "Coming, Sergeant-Major! " And he swung
downstairs where a powerfully-built man in a snow and
ice-incrusted fur coat awaited him.

"The O.C.'s orders, Redmond! —get your kit
packed and hold yourself in readiness to pull out on the
eleven o'clock West-bound to-morrow. You're trans-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 29
ferred to the Davidsburg detachmtJt. I'll give you
your transport-requisition later."

The storm doors banged b«hin.! him, .,id then,
Redmond, not without design, foi :• d hinr^elf co saunter
slowly -very slowly - upstairs again, whistling non-
chalantly the while.

Expectant faces greeted him. "What's up?" they
chorused. With a fine assumption of indifference he
briefly informed them. McSporran received the news
with his customary stolidity, only his gray eyes
twinkled and he chuntered something that was totally
unintelligible to anyone save himself. But its effect
upon McCulIough and Hardy was peculiar, not to say,
startling in the extreme. With brush and burnisher
clutched in their respective hands they both turned and
gaped upon him fish-eyed for the moment. Then, as
their eyes met, those two worthies seemed to experience
a difficulty of articulation.

Dumfounded himself, George looked from one to
the other. "What the devil's wrong with you fools?"
he queried irritably.

Thereupon, McCulIough, still holding the eyes of the

Cockney, gasped out one magical word — "Yorkey!"

The spell was broken. "W'y, gorblimey!" said

:§•

30 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Hardy, "Ain't that queer? — that's jes' wot I wos a-
thinkln' . , . Well, Gawd 'elp Sorjint Slavin now!"
With which cryptic utterance he resumed his eternal
polishing.

"Amenl" responded the farrier piously, "Reddy,
here, an' Yorkey on th' same detachment. . . . What
th' one don't know t'other'll teach him. . . . You'd
better let 'era have th' parrot, too."

McSporran, back on his cot with hands clasped be-
hind his head, gobbled an owlish "Hoot, mon! th' twa o'
them thegitherl . . . Loshl but that beats a' . . . but,
hoo lang, Lard? hoo lang?"

From various sources George had picked up the
broken ends of many strange rumours relating to the
personality and escapades of one Constable Yorke, of
the Davidsburg detachment, whom he had never seen as
yet. A hint here, a whisper there, a shrug and a low-
voiced jest between the sergeant-major and the quarter-
master, overheard one day in the latter's store. To
Redmond it seemed as if a veil of mystery had always
enveloped the person and doings of this man, Yorke.
The glamour of it now aroused all his latent curiosity.
"Why, what sort of a chap is this Yorke?" he in-
quired casually.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 31

McCullough, busily burnishing a bit, shrugged dep-

recatingly and laughed. Hardy, putting the last

tout lies to his revolver-holster, made answer, George

thought, with peculiar reticence.

"Wot, Yorkey? ... oh, 'e's a 'oly terror 'e is

You arst Crampton," he mumbled — "arst Taylor —
they wos at Davidsburg wiv 'im. Slavin's orl right
but Yorkey I". . . He looked unutterable things.
"Proper broken down Old Country torff 'e is, too,
'E's right there wiv th' goods at police work, they s'y,
but 'e's sure a bad un to 'ave to live wiv. Free weeks
on'y, Crampton stuck it afore 'e applied for a transfer
— Taylor, 'e on'y stuck it free d'ys."

Redmond made a gesture of exasperation. "Ah-h!
come off the perch! » he snarler" r ntishly, "what sort if
old 'batman's' gaff are you ; to 'get my goat'

with?"

His display of irritation drew an explosive, mis-
chievous cachinnation from the trio.

"Old 'batman's' gaff?" echoed the Cockney grinning,
"orl right, my fresh cove — this time next week you'll
be tellin' us wewer it's old 'batman's' gaff, or not."

Outside, the blizzard still moaned and beat upon the
windows, packing the wind-driven snow in huge drifts

32 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

about the big main building. Inside, the canteen
roared —

Sum, tumi tuidUdy-umI wfU have a lair old spreel"

McSporran slid off his coat with surprising alacrity.
"Here's anel" he announced blithely. Hardy, care-
fully hanging up his spotless, glossy equipment at the
head of his cot, turned to the farrier who was likewise
engaged in arranging a bridle and a pipe-clayed head-
rope.

"Wot abaht it. Mac?" he queried briskly.

McCullough, in turn looked at Redmond. "All
right!" responded that young genUeman with a boyish
shrug and grin, "come on then, you bloomin' old
spongesi let's wet my transfer. I'll have time to pack
my kit to-morrow, before the West-bound puUs out"

Upon their departing ears, grown wearily familiar
to Its monotonous repetition, fell the parrot's customary
adieu, as that disreputable-looking bird swung rhyth-
mically to and fro on its perch.

"Goo' byel " it gabbled, "A soldier's farewell' to yehl
goo' bye! goo' bye!"

CHAPTER II

Homeless, ragged and tanned,
Under the changeful sky;
Who so free in the land?
Who so contented as I?.

THl VAGABOND

THE long-drawn-out, sweet notes of "Reveille"
rang out in the frosty dawn. Reg. No. — Const.
George Redmond, engaged at that moment in
pulling on his "fatigue-slacks" hummed the trumpet-
call's time-honoured vocal parody —

"/ sold a cow, I sold a cow, an' bought a donk-ee—
Oh — what — a silly old sot you werel"

The room buzzed like a drowsy hive with hastily
dressing men. Breathing hotly on the frosted window-
pane next his cot, George rubbed a clear patch and
glued his eye to it. The blizzard had died out during
the night leaving the snnw-drifted landscape frosty,
still and clear. A rapidly widening strip of blended
rose and pale turquoise on the eastern horizon gave
promise of a fine day.
He turned away with a contented sigh and, descend-

34 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

ing the stairs, fell in with the rest of the fur-coated,
moccasined men on "Morning Stable Parade."

Three hours later, breakfast despatched, blankets
rolled and kit and dunnage bags packed, he received a
curt summons from the sergeant-major to attend the
Orderly-room. To the brisk word of command he
was "quick-marched" "\eh-wheeled," and "halted" at
"attention" before the desk of the Officer Commanding
L. Division.

"Constable Redmond, Sirl" announced the deep-
throated, rumbling bass of the lergeant-major; and for
some seconds George gazed at the silvery hair and wide
bowed shoulders of the seated figure in front of him,
who continued his perusal of some type-written sheets
of foolscap, as if unaware of any interruption. Else-
where have the kindly personality and eccentricities of
Captain Richard Bargrave been described; "but that,"
as Kipling says, "is another story."

Presently the papers were cast aside, the bowed
shoulders in the splendidly-cut blue-serge uniform
squared back in the chair, and Redmond found him-
self being scrutinized intently by the all-familiar
bronzed old aristocratic countenance, with its sweeping
fair moustache. Involutarily he stiffened, though his

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 35

ey-s, momentarily overpowered by the intensity of
thai keen gaze, strayed to the level of his superior's
breast and focussed themselves upon two campaign
ribbons there, "North-West Rebellion" and "Ashantee"
decorations.

Suddenly the thin, high, cultured voice addressed
him — whimsically — sarcastic but not altogether un-
kindly:

"The Sergeant-Major" — the gold-rimmed pince-nez
were swung to an elevation indicating that individual
and the fair moustache was twirled pensively — "the
Sergeant-Major reports that — er — for the past six
months you have been conducting yourself around
the Post with fair average" — the suave tones hardened
— "that you have wisely refrained from indulging
your youthful fancies in any more such — er — dam-
fool antics, Sir, as characterized your merry but brief
career at the Gleichen detachment, so — er — I have
decided to give you another chance. I have here" —
he fumbled through some papers — "a request from
Sergeant Slavin for another man at Davidsburg. I
am transferring you there. Slavin — er — damn the
man! damn the man! what's wrong with him, Sergeant-
Major? . . . Two men have I sent him in as many

36 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

months, and both of 'em, after a few days there, on
some flimsy pretext or another, applied for transfers
to other detachments. Good men, too. If this occurs
again — damme!" — he glared at his subordinate —
"I'll — er — bring that Irish 'ginthleman' into tht
Post for a summary explanation. Wire him of this
man's transfer! ... All right, Sergeant-Major 1"

"About-turrnl —quick-march!" growled again the
bass voice of the senior non-com; and he kept step be-
hind George into the passage. "Here's your transport
requisition, Redmond. Now — take a tumble to your-
self, my lad — on this detachment. You're getting
what 'Father' don't give to many — a second chance.
Good-bye!"

George gripped the proffered hand and looked full
into the kindly, meaning eyes. "Good-bye, S.M.!" he
said huskily, "Thanks!"

Westward, the train puffed its way slowly along a
slight, but continual up-grade through the foothills,
following more or less the winding course of the Bow
River. Despite the cold, clear brilliance of the day,
seen under winter conditions the landscape on either
side of the track presented a rather forlorn, dreary

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 37

picfi-e. So it appeared to George, anyway, as he
gazed out of the window at the vast, spreading, white-
carpeted valley, the monotonous aspect of which was
only occasionally relieved by sparsely-dotted ranches,
small wayside stations, or w?en they thundered across
high trestle bridges over the partly-frozen, black,
steaming river.

Two summers earlier he had travelled the same road,
on a luxurious trip to the Coast. The memory of its'
scenic splendor then, the easy-going stages from one
sumptuous mountain resort to another, now made him
feel slightly dismal and discontented with his present
lot. Eye-restful solace came however with the sight of
the ever-nearing glorious sun-crowned peaks of the
mighty "Rockies," sharply silhouetted against the
dazzling blue of the sky.

Children's voices behind him suddenly broke in upon
his reverie.

"That man!" said a small squeaking treble, "was a
hobo. He was sitting in that car in front with the hard
seats an' I went up to him an' I said, 'Hullo, Mister!
why don't you wash your face an' shave it? we've all
washed our faces this morning'. ... We did, didn't
we, Alice? — an' washed Porkey's too, an' he said

38 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

'Hullo, Bo! wash my face? -I don't have to -I
might catch cold.' "

"But Jerry!" said another child's voice, "I don't
think he could have been a real hobo, or he'd have had
an empty tomato-can hanging around his neck on a
strmg, like the pictures of 'Weary Willie' an' I'ired
Tim' in the funny papers."

Then ensued the sounds as of a juvenile scuffle and
squawk. Master Jerry apparently resented having his
pet convictions treated in this "Doubting Thomas"
fashion, for the next thing George heard him say, was-
"Goozlemy, goozlemy, goo.r.myi . . . No! he hadn't
got a tomato-can, silly! but i.e'd got a big, fat botUe in
his pocket an' he pulled the cork out of it an' sucked
an' I said 'What have you got in your bottle?' an' he
said 'CoW tea' but it didn't smell a bit like cold tea.
There's a Mounted Policeman sitting in that seat in
front of us. Let's ask him. Policemen always lock
hoboes up in gaol an' kick them in the stomach, like
you see them in the pictures."

The next instant there came a pattering of little
feet and two small figures scrambled into the vacant
seat in front of Redmond. His gaze fell on a diminu-
tive, red-headed, inquisitive-faced urchin of some eight

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 39

years, and a small, gray-eyed, wistful-looking maiden,
perhaps about a year younger, with hair that matched
the boy's in colour. Under one dimpled arm, she
clutched tightly to her — upside-down — a fat, squirm-
ing fox-terrier puppy. Hand-in-hand, in an atUtude of
breathless, speculative awe, they sat there bolt upright,
like two small gophers; watching intently the face of
the uniformed representative of the Law, as if seeking
some reassuring sign.

It came presently — a kind, boyish, friendly smile
that gained the confidence of their little hearts at
once.

"Hullo, nippers!" he said cheerily.

"Hullo!" the two small trebles responded.

"What's your name, son?"

"Jerry!"

"Jerry what?"

An uneasy wriggle and a moment's hesitation then —
"Jeremiah!" came a small — rather sulky — voice.

Breathing audibly in her intense eagerness the little
girl now came to the rescue.

"Please, policeman?" she stopped and gulped ex-
citedly — "please, policeman? — he doesn't like to be
called that It isn't kis fault. He always throws

:t
iii-

40 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

stones at the bad boys when they call him that. Call
him just 'Jefiy' "

That gamin, turning from a minute examination of
Redmond's spurred moccasins, began to swing his
chubby legs and bounce up and down upon the cush-
ioned seat.

"Her name's Alice," he volunteered, with a sidelong
fling of his carrot-tinted head. "Yes! she's my sister"
— he made a snatch at the pup whose speedy demise
was threatened, from blood to the head — "don't hold
Porkey that way, Alice! his eyes'U drop out."

But his juvenile confrere shrugged away from his
clutch. "Stupid!" she retorted, with fine scorn, "no
they won't. . . , it's on'y guinea pigs that do that! —
when you hold them up by their tails." Nevertheless
she promptly reversed that long-suffering canine, which
immediately demonstrated its gratitude by licking her
face effusively.

The all-important question of the hobo was next
commended to his attention, with a tremendous amount
of chatt ring rivalry, and, with intense gravity he was
cogitating how to render a satisfactory finding to both
factions when steps, and the unmistakable rustle of
skirts, sounded in his immediate rear. Then a laa -"s

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 41

voice said, "Oh, there you are, children! ... I was
wondering where you'd got to."

The two heads bobbed up simultaneously, with a joy-
ful "Here's Mother 1" and George, turning, glanced
with innate, well-bred curiosity at a stout, pleasant-
faced, middle-aged woman who stood beside them.

"I hope these young Imps haven't been bothering
you?" she said. "We were in that car behind, but I was
reading and they've been having a great time romping
all over the place. Oh, well! I suppose it's too much
to expect children to keep still on a train."

With a fond motherly caress she putted the two small
flaming heads that now snuggled boisterously against
her on either side.

"Come now! Messrs. Bubble and Squeak! " she urged
teasingly, "march! —back to our car again!"

"Bubble and Squeak" seemed appropriate enough
just then, to judge by the many fractious objections im-
mediately V .iced by those two small mutineers. They
were loth to part with their latest acquaintance and
weren't above advertising that fact with unnecessary
vehemence. Even the puppy raised a snuffling whine.
"Boo-hoo!" walled Jerry, "don't want to go in the
other car — me an' Alice want to stay here — the
policeman's goin' to tell us all about hoboes — he — "

42 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Oh, dear!" came a despairing little sigh, "what-
ever — "

Their eyes met and, at the droll perplexity he read
in hers, George laughed outright. An explosive frank
boyish laugh. He rose with a courteous gesture. "I'm
afraid it's a case of 'if the mountain won't come to
Mahomet,'" he began, with gay sententiousness.
"Won't you sit down?"

The matron's kindly eyes appraised the bold, manly
young face a moment, then, with a certain leisurely
grace, she stepped in between the seats and, seating her-
self, lugged her two small charges down beside her.

"I suppose, under the circumstances, an old woman
like me can discard the conventionalities?" she re-
marked smilingly.

Jerry and Alice leered triumphantly at their victim.
"Nowl" Jerry shrilled exactingly "tell us all about
hoboes!"

"They do carry empty tomato-cans, don't they?"
pleaded Alice.

It was now their guardian's turn to laugh at his
dismay. "You see what you've let yourself in for
now?" she remarked.

"Seems I am up against it," he admitted, with a

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 43

rueful grin, "well I must make good somehow, I sun-
pose?" ^

With an infinitely boyish gesture he tipped his fur
cap to the back of his head and leaned forward with
finger-tips compressed in approved story-telling
fashion. *

"Once upon a timel-" a breathless "Yes-s"-
those two small faces reminded him much of terriers
watching a rat-hole - "there was a hobo." He thought
hard. "He was a very dirty old hobo - he never used
to wash his face. He was walking along the road one
day when he heard a little wee voice call out 'Hey!'
He looked down and he saw an empty tomato-can on
a rubbish heap. Tomato-cans used to be able to talk in
those days and the hoboes were very good to them —
always used to drink out of them and carry them to save
them from walking. This can had a picture of its big
red face on the outside. 'Give us a lift?' said the can
'Where to?' said the old hobo. 'Back to California'
where I came from,' said the can. 'AH right! ' said the'
old hobo, 'I'm goin' there, too.' And he picked the can
up and hung it round his neck and kept on walking till
they came to a house. The w-'ndow of the house was
open and they could see a big fat bottle on a little table.

44 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
'Ahl ' said the old hobo 'here's an old friend of mine! —
he's comin' with us, too." And he shoved his arm
through the window and put the bottle in his pocket.
By and by they came to a river — 'Hey!' said the
can, again — 'What's up?' said the old hobo — 'I'm
dry,' said the can — 'So am I,' said the hobo; and he
dipped the can in the water and gave it a very little
drink. 'Hey! ' said the can, 'give us a drop more! ' —
'Wait a bit!' said the old hobo, and he pulled the cork
out of the bottle. 'Don't you pour any of that feller
into me!' said the can, 'he'll burn my inside out — an'
yours — if you pour him into me I'll open my mouth
where I'm soldered and let him run out, and you won't
be able to drink out of me any more. Chuck him into
the river! — he's no good.'

" 'You shut your mouth!' said the old hobo, 'or I'll
chuck you into the river! ' And he poured some of the
stuff out of the bottle into the can — "

At this exciting point poor George halted for breath

and mopped his forehead. He felt fully as thirsty as

the tomato-can. But the children were upon him,

clutching his scarlet tunic:

"What did he do then?" howled Jerry.

"Eh?" gasped the young policeman, — «oh, he

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 45
opeucd his mouth where he was soldered and let the
stuff run out. So the old hobo threw him into the river
That's why hoboes always pack a bottle with them now
instead of a tomato-can."

He leaned back with a sigh and, thrusting his hands
deep into his pockets, smiled wanly at his vis-a-vis.

"There!" he said, with feeble triumph, "I've carried
out the sentence."

And it did him good to drink in her mirthful, waggish
laugh.

"Yesl" she conceded gaily, "you certainly did
great execution, though you look more like a prisoner
just reprieved."

Jerty, screwing up his small snub nose leered trium-
phantly across her lap at Alice. "Goozlemy, goozlemy
goozlemy!" he squeaked, "that man was a real hobo "'
His grimace was returned with interest. Alice
hugged her puppy awhile contentedly, murmuring in
that canine's ear, "What a silly old thing that tomato-
can must have been. If I'd been him I'd have kept
my mouth shut."

"Cow Run!" intoned the brakeman monotonously
^sing through the coaches, "Cow Run next stop!"'
His eye fell on Redmond. "Wish I'd seen you before

46 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Officer 1" he remarked, "I'd have had a hobo for you.
Beggar stole a ride on us from Glenbow, back there.
The con's goin' to chuck him off here — do you want
him?"

"No ! " said Redmond shortly, "let the stiff go — I'm
going on to Davidsburg — haven't got time to get
messing around with 'vags' now."

The train began to slow down and presently stopped
at a small station. Mechanically the quartette gazed
through the window at the few shivering platform
loungers, and D3yond them to the irregular, low-lying
fagade of snow-plastered buildings that comprised the
dreary main street of the little town.
Suddenly the children uttered a shrill yelp.
"There he is!" cried Alice, darting a small finger at
the window-pane.
"I saw him first!" bawled Jerry.
And, slouching past along the platform, all huddled-
up with hands in pockets, George beheld a ragged non-
descript of a man whose appearance confirmed Master
Jerry's previous assertion beyond doubt.

The children drummed on the window excitedly.
Glancing up at the two small peering faces the human
derelict's red-nosed, stubble-coated visage contorted

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 47
itself into a friendly grimace of recognition; at the same
time, with an indescribably droll, swashbuckling
swagger he doffed a shocking dunghill of a hat.

Suddenly though his jaw dropped and, replacing his
battered headpiece, with double-handed indecent haste
the knight of the road executed an incredibly nimble
"right-about turn" and vanished behind the station-
house. Just then came the engine's toot! toot! , the con-
ductor's warning -'All aboar-rd!" and the train started
once more on its journey westward.

Smiling grimly to himself, the policeman settled
back in his seat again and glanced across at the lady.
She was shaking with convulsive laughter.

"Oh!" she giggled hysterically "he — he must have
seen your red coat!" another spasm of merriment, "it
was as good as a pantomime," she murmured.

Evincing a keen interest in his soldierly vocation,
for awhile she subjected him to an exacting and minute
inquisition anent the duties and life of a Mounted
Policeman. In this agreeable fashion the time passed
rapidly and it was with a feeling of regret that he
heard the brakeman announce his destination and rose
to take leave of his pleasant companion. The children
insisted on bidding their late chum a cuddling, oscula-

48 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
tory farewell — Alice tearfully holding up the snuffling
Porkey for his share. The train drew up at the Davids-
burg platform, there came a chorus of "Good-byes" and
a few minutes later George was left alone with his kit-
bags on the deserted platform.

CHAPTER III

St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! fritter chUl it vias.

The ovtil, lor aU kis feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limped, trembling, through the froien grass;

And drowsy was the flock in woolly fold.

ST. AGNES' EVE

REDMOND did not have to wait long. Sounding
faint and far off came the silvery ring of sleigh-
bells, gradually swelling in volume until, with
a measured crunch! crunch! of hoofs on packed snow,
a smart Police cutter, drawn by a splendid bay team,
swung around a bend of the trail and pulled up at the
platform. Redmond regarded with a little awe the
huge, bear-like, uniformed figure of the teamster, whom
he identified at once from barrack gossip.

"Sergeant Slavin?" he enquired respectfully, eyeing
the bronzed, clean-shaven face, half hidden by fur cap
and tumed-up collar.

"Meself, lad!" came a rich soft brogue, "I was
afther gettin' a wire from th' O.C, tellin' me he was
thransfering me another man. Yer name's Ridmond,
ain't it? — Whoa, now! T an' B! —lively wid thim

THE MOUNTED

pretty fresh an' will

not

SO THE LUCK Oi

kit-bags, son! — team's
shtand."

They swung off at a spanking trot. George surveyed
the white-washed cattle-corrals and few scattered
shacks which seemed to comprise the hamlet of
Davldsburg.

"Not a very big place, Sergeant?" he remarked, "how
far's the detachment from here?"

"On'y 'bout a mile" grunted the individual, squirting
a stream of tobacco-juice to leeward, "up on the high
ground beyant. Nay! 'tis just a jumpin' off place an'
shippin' point for th' ranches hereabouts. Business is
mostly done at Cow Run — East. Ye passed ut,
comin'. Great doin's there — whin th' cowpunchers
blow in. Some burg!"

"Sure looked it!" Redmond agreed absently, think-
ing of the casual glimpse he had got of the dreary main
street.

They were climbing a slight grade. The sun-glare
on the snow was intense; the cutter's steel runners no
longer screeched, and the team's hoofs began to clog
up with soft snow.

"They're 'balling-up' pretty bad. Sergeant!" re-
marked Redmond. And, as he spoke the "off" horse

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 51

suddenly slipped and fell, and, plunging to its feet
again, a leg slid over the cutter's tongue.

"Whoa, nowl whoa!" barked Slavin, with an oath,
as the mettled, high-strung animal began to kick
affrightedly. Slipping again it sank down in the snow
and remained still for some tense moments.

Like a flash Redmond sprang from the cutter, and
rapidly and warily he unhooked the team's traces.
This done he crept to their heads and slipped the end
of the tongue out of the neck-yoke ring. Slavin by this
time „ -s also on his feet in the snow, with the situation
well in hand. He clucked softly to his team, the fallen
horse plunged to its feet again and the next moment
all was clear. George, burrowing around in the snow
unearthed a big stone, with which he proceeded to tap
the team's shoes all round until the huge snow-clogs
fell out. In silence the two men hooked up again and
were soon on their way.

"H-mml" grunted the big Irishman at last, eyeing
his subordinate with a sidelong glance of approval,
"h-mml teamster?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sergeant" responded Redmond
deprecatingly, "of course I've been around teams some
— down East, on the old man's farm. . . I don't

52 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

know that I can claim to be a real teamster — as you
judge them in the Force."

"H-mml" gTv id Slavin again, "ye seem tu have th'
makin's anyway." He expectorated musingly. "Wan
time — down at Coutts 'twas — a young feller was
sint tu me for tu dhrive. Mighty chipper gossoon,
tu. 'Teamster?' sez I — 'Some!' sez he, as if he was
a reg'lar gua at th' business — 'but I'm gen'rally
reckoned handier wid a foursome 'n a single team.' "

" 'Ohl' sez I, 'fwhere?' An' he tould me — Regina.
Sez I thin ' 'tis Skinner Adams's undershtudy ye must
have bin? — for he was Reg'mentil Teamster Sarjint
there, an' sure fwas a great man wid a four-in-hand
team.' "

" 'Fwat, ould Skinner Adams?' sez me bould lad,
kind av contempshus-like, 'Humph 1 at shtringin' out
four I have Skinner Adams thrimmed tu a peak.' We
was dhrivin' from th' station tu th' detachmint — same
like tu we're doin' now. Whin we gits in I unhitches
an' puts up th' team. 'Give us a hand tu shling th'
harniss off 1 ' sez I tu him — an' me shmart Aleck makes
a shtab at ut wid th' nigh horse. He was not quite so
chipper — thin, an' I notice ' his hands thremblin', an'
he was all th' time watchin' me close how I did wid

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 53

th' off harse. I dhraws off wid th' britchin' on me
arrum - 'Cornel ' sez I - an' he shtarts in - unbuck-
lin' th' top hame-shtrap.

" 'As ye werel' sez I 'that's enoughl I'm thinkin' th'
on'y "four" you iver shtrung out me young flapdhoodle
was a gang av prisoners, an' blarney me sowll ye shal'
go back tu th' Post right now, an' du prisoner's escort"
agin for awhile.' "

They had now reached the top of the grade where the
trail swung due east, and faced a dazzling sun and
cutting wind which whipped the blood to their cheeks
and made their eyes water.

"Behould our counthry eshtate!" said Sergeant
Slavin grandiloquently, with an airy wave of his arm,
"beyant that big pile av shtones on th' road-allowance."'
He chirped to his team which broke into an even
fast trot, and presently they drew up outside a building
typical in its outside appearance of the usual range
Mounted Police detachment. It was a fairly large
dwelling, roughly but substantially-built of squared
logs, painted in customary fashion, with the walls —
white, and the shingled roof -red. A strongly-
guyed flagstaff jutting out from one gable, and copies of
the "Game" and "Fire Acts" tacked on the door gave

54 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

the abode an unmistakable official aspect. Over the
doorwiy was nailed a huge, prehistoric-looking buffalo-
skull, b'tached white with the years — the time-hon-
oured insignia of the R.N.W.M.P. being a buffalo-head,
which isalso stamped on the regimental badgeand utton.'
Dumping off the kit-bags, the_two men drove round
to the stable in the rear of 'the niai- dwelling,* where
they unhitched and put up the team. The sergeant led
the way into the house. Passing through a small store-
house and kitchen they emerged into the living room.
On a miniature scale it was a replica of one of the Post
barrack-roorr ;, except that the table boasted a tartan-
rugged cvering, that two or three easy chairs were
scattered around, and some calfskin mats partially
covered the painted hardwood floor. The walls, for
the most part were adorned with many unframed
copies of pictures from the brush of that great Western
artist, Charles Russell, and black and white sketches
cut from various illustrated papers. Three comers of
the room contained cots, one of which the sergeant
assigned to Redmond. The room, with its big stove
m a way looked comfortable enough, and was regi-
mentally neat and clean and homelike.
George peered into the front room beyond which

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 55

bore quite a judicial aspect. At one end of it a small

dais supported a severe-looking arm-chair and a long

flat desk, on which were pil-'i foolscap, blank legal

forms, law-Looks, and the Bible. In front was a long,

form-like bench, with a back to it. At the rear of the'

room were two strongly-built cells, with barred doors.

Around the walls were scattered a double row of small

chairs and, on a big, green-baize-covered board next the

cells hung a brightly burnished assortment of handcuffs

and leg-irons.

^^ "'Tie here we hould coort," Slavin informed him,
"whin we have any shtiffs tu be thried."

Opening the front door George lugged in his bedding
and kit-bags and, depositing them on his cot, flung off
his fur coat, cap, and serge. Slavin divested himself
likewise and, as the burly, bull-necked man stood there,
slowly filling his pipe, Redmond was able to scan the'
face and massive proportions of his superior more
closely.

Standing well over six feet, for the presentment of
vast, though perchance clumsy, gorilla-like strength,
George reflected with slight awe that he had never seen
tiie man's equal. His wide-spreading shoulders were
more rounded than square; his deep, arching chest,

56 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

powerful, stocky nether limbs and dusproportionately
long, huge-biceped arms seeming to fit him as an ex-
ponent of the mat rather than the gloves. Truly a
daunting figure to meet in a close-quarter, rough-and-
tumble encounter 1 thought Redmond. The top of his
head was completely bald; his thick, straight black
brows indicating that what little close-cropped iron-
gray hair remained must originally have been coal-
black in colour. His Irish-blue eyes, alternately
dreamy and twinklingly alert, were deeply set in a
high-theeked-boned, bronzed face, with a long upper-
lipped, grimly-humoious mouth. Its expression in
repose gave subUe warning that its owner possessed in
a marked degree the strongly melancholic, emotional,
and choleric temperament of his race. There was no
moroseness — no hardness in it, but rather the taci-
turnity that invariably settles upon the face of those
dwellers of the range who, perforce, live much alone
with their thoughts. Sheathed in mail and armed,
that face and bulky figure to some imaginations might
have found its prototype in some huge, grim, war-worn
"man-at-arms" ■ ' mediaeval times. Redmond judged
him to be some? -here in his forties; forty-two was his
exact age as he ascertained later.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 57

In curious cop.trast to his somewhat formidable
exterior seemed his mild, gentle, soft-brogued voice.
And, with speech, his taciturn face relaxed insensibly
into an almost genial expression, George noted.

Attracted by a cluster of pictures and photographs
above and around the cot in the corner opposite his
own, the young fellow crossed over and scanned them
attentively. Tacked up with a random, reckless hand,
the bizarre collection was typically significant of some-
one's whimsical, freakish tastes and personality. From
the sublime to the ridiculous — and worse — subjects
pious and impious, dreamily-beau'ful and lewdly-
vulgar, comic and tragic, also many splendid photo-
graphs were all jumbled together on the walls in a
shockingly irresponsible fashion. Many of the pic-
tures were unframed copies cut apparently from art
and other journals; from theatrical and comic papers.
George gazed on them awhile in utterly bewildered
astonishment; then, with a little hopeless ejaculation,
swung around to the sergeant who met his despairing
grin with benign composure.
"Whose cot's — "

" 'Tis Yorke's," said Slavin simply. It was the first
time he had mentioned that individual's name. He

58 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
struck a match on the seat of his pants and standing
with his feet apart and hands clasped behind his back
smoked awhile contentedly.

"Saw ye iver th' like av that for divarsiment?" he
continued, with a wave of his pipe at the heterogeneous
array, "shtudy thim! an', by an' large ye have th' nun
himsilf. He's away on pay-day duty at th' Coalmore
mines west av here — though by token, 'Us Billy
Blythe at Banff shud be doin' ut, 'stead av me havin' tu
sind a man from here. He shud be back on Number
Four th' night."

His twinkling orbs under their black smudge of eye-
brow appraised the junior constable with faint, musing
interest. "A quare chap is Yorkey," he continued
genUy — shielding a match-flame and puffing with
noisy respiration — a good polisman — knows th'
Criminal Code from A tu Z — eyah ! but mighty quare.
I misdoubt how th' tu av yez will get along." He sighed
deeply, muttering half to himself, "I may have tu take
shteps — this timel . . ."

A rather ominous beginning, thought George. But,
curbing his natural curiosity, he resolutely held his'
peace, awaiting more enlightenment. This not being
forthcoming — his superior having relapsed once more

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 59
uito taciturn silence-he turned again to Yorke's ex
h.b.ts with pondering interest. Sounding far'ff V^d

r.:t: fa-""; 'r ^^'^^^ °^ ^^^ ^^-^ ^-^«>

^«e the famt echoes of a coyote's shrill "ki-yip.
Wng"-again and again, as if endeavouring fo

Mnie...^gel.,..^,-tr^r^^^^
d.d hthograph of "The Angel of Pity at L Wdl of
Cawnpore," Lottie Collins, scantily attired, in her song
and dance "Tara-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," Si Frederick
Le-^ton's "Wedd«,,» a gruesome' depictiol of a
Chinese execution at Canton, an old-fashioned en-
g-v:ng of that dashing, deboniar cavalry officer
Major Hodson," of Indian Mutiny fa. ' George'
Robey, as a nurse-maid, wheeling Little Tich in a per-
ambulator, the grim, torture-lined face of Slatin Pasha

Ta?M T r °? ^'''''" '^^^ «'»"''- edifice the
T^ Mahal" of India, and so on. "Divarsiment"

6'J THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

To this ai-assorted admixture three exceptions only
were grduped with any sense of reason. The central
picture was a beautifully coloured reproduction of
Sir Hubert Herkomer's famous masterpiece "The Last
Muster." Lovers of art subjects are doubtless familiar
with this immortal painting. It depicts a pathetic
congregation of old, white-haired, war-worn pensioners
attending divine service in the chapel of Old Chelsea
Hospital, with the variegated liehts from the stained-
glass windows flooding them with soft gentle colours.
Flanking it on either side were portraits of the original
founders of this historical institution in 1692 — Charles
II (The Merry Monarch) and his kindly-hearted 'light
o' love" Sweet Nell Gwynn of Old Drury.

With curiously mixed feelings George finally tore
himself away from Yorke's pathetically grotesque
attempt at wall-adornment. Strive as he would within
his soul to ridicule, the pictures seemed somehow al-
most to shout at him with hidden meaning. As
if a voice — a drunken voice, but gentlemanly withal
— was hiccuping in his ear: "Paradise Lost, old mani
(hie) Paradise Lost!"

And, mixed with it, came again out of the silence of
the foothills the coyote's faintly persistent mocking waU

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 6i

— its "ki-yip-yap" sounding almost like "Bah! Yahl
Baa!" . . . Some lines of an old quotation, picked up
he knew not where, wandered into h- mind -

Comedy, Tragedy, Laughter and Tearsl
Thou'rt rotted as one ,n the Dust of Years!

With a sigh he turned to his own cot and began to
unpack and arrange his kit; in regulation fashion, and
with such small faddy fixings customary to men inured
to barrack life. Thus engaged the time passed rapidly
Later m the day he assisted the sergeant in making out
the detachment's "monthly returns" and diary This
tesk accomplished, in the gathering dusk he attended
Evemng Stables." There were two saddle-horses be-
side the previously-mentioned team. A splendid up-
standing pair, George thought them. He was good
with horses; possessing the faculty of handling them
that sprmgs only from a patient, kindly, instinctive
Jove of animals.

"Nay! I dhrive mostly," Slavin was telling him,
buckboard an' team's away handier for a man av
weight like meself. Eyah!" he sighed, "thC time was
whin I cud throw a leg over wid th' best av thim
Yorke_he gen'rally rides th' black, x-arson, so ye'li
take th' sorrel, Fox, for yeh pathrols. He's a good

62 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

stayer, an' fast. Ye'll want tu watch him at mounthin'
tho' — he's not a mane harse, but he has a quare
thrlck av turnin' sharp tu th' 'off' — just as ye go tu
shwing up into th' saddle. Many's th' man he's whira-
roo'd round wid wan fut in th' sUrrup an' left pickin'
up dollars off th' bald-headed.' Weill let's tu supper."

With the practised hand of an old cook he pre-
pared a simple but hearty repast, upon which they fell
with appetites keenly edged with the cold air.

"Are ye anythin' av a cuk?"

Redmond grinned deprecatingly and then shook his
head.

"Eyah! » grumbled Slavin, "seems I cannot hilp bein'
cuk an' shtandin' orderly-man around here. I thried out

Yorkey Wan day on'y tho' — 'tis th' divil's own

cuk he is. 'Sarjint!' sez he, 'I'm no bowatchee'-
which in Injia he tells me means same as cuk. An' he
tould th' trute at that."

Some three hours later, as they lay on their cots,
came to them the faint, far-off tooti tootl of an engine'
through the keen atmosphere.

"That's Number Four from th' West," remarked
Slavin drowsily, "Yorkey shud be along on ut. Well!
a walk will not hurt th' man if "

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 63

He chuntered something to himself.
Half an hour elapsed slowly -three quarters
Slavin rolled off his cot with a grunt and strode heavily
to the front door, which he opened. Redmond silently
followed him and together the two men stepped out into
the crisply-crunching hard-packed snow. It was a
magnificent night. High overhead in the star-studded
sky shone a splendid full moon, its clear cold rays
hghting up the white world around them with a sort
of phosphorescent, scinUllating brilliance.

Though not of a particularly sentimental tempera-
ment, the calm, peaceful, unearthly beauty of the scene
moved George to murmur — half to himself:

"Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky.
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot, alasl
As benefits forgot"

To his surprise came Slavin's soft brogue echoing the
last lines of the old Shakespearian sonnet, with a sort
of dreamy, gentle bitterness: "As binifits forghot-

forghot!-as binifits forghoti Luk tu that

now! eyah! 'tis th'trute, lad! .... for here - unless
I am mistuk, comes me bould Yorkey — an' dhrunk as

a fiddler's again. Tchkk! an' me on'y just afther

warnin' um. . . ."

64 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

And, a far-away black spot as yet, down the moonlit,
snow-banked trail, indistinctly they beheld an unsteady
figure slowly weaving its way towards the detachment.
At intervals the night-wind wafted to them snatches of
song.

"Slngin', singin'," muttered Slavin, "from break

av morrn 'till jewy eve I ... Misther B Yorkel

luks 'tis goin' large y'are th' night."

Nearer and nearer approached the stumbling black
figure, weaving an eccentric course in and out along
the line of telephone poles; and, to their ears came the
voice of one crying in the wilderness: —

"0, tke Uidnigkt SonI the MidHight Soitl (hie)
You needn't go trottbi' to Norway —
You'll find him in ev'ry doorway — "

A sudden cessation of the music, coupled with certain
slightly indistinct, weird contortions of the vocalist's
figure, apprised the watchers that a snow-bank had
momentarily claimed him. Then, suddenly and saucily,
as if without a break, the throbbing, high-pitched tenor
piped up again —

"roll's behold him in his glory
If you on'y take a run (kic)
Dovm tke Strand — thafs tke Land
Of tke UidMgkt Son.''

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 65

Dewy eve indeed! —a far cry to the Strand! . . .
How freakish sounded that old London variety stage
ditty ridiculing the nightly silence of the great snow-
bound Nor' West. Redmond could not refrain an ex-
plosive, snorting chuckle as he remarked the erratic gait
of the slowly approaching pedestrian. As Slavin had
opined, he was "going large." His vocal efforts had
ceased temporarily, and now it was the junior con-
stable's merriment that broke the frosty stillness of the
night.

But Slavin did not laugh. Watchfully he waited
there — curiously still, his head jutting forward lower-
ingly from between his huge shoulders.

"Tchkk!" he clucked in gentle distaste — "In uni-
form ... an' just afther comin' off the thrain! . . .
th' like av that now 'tis — 'tis scandh'lus! . . ."

Suddenly Redmond shivered, and his mirth died
within him. The air seemed to have become charged
with a tense, ominous something that filled him with a
great dread — of what? he knew not. He felt an in-
explicable impulse to cry out a warning to that ludi-
crous figure, whose crunching moccasins were now the
only sounds that broke the uncanny stillness of the
night. To him, the whole scene, bathed »» the cold bril-

66 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

liance of its moonlit setting, seemed ghostly and unreal
— a disturbing dream of comedy and tragedy,
intermingled.

Inwards, between the telephone poles, the man came
stumbling along, gradually drawing nigh to the motion-
less watchers. Halting momentarily, during his prog-
ress he made a quick stooping action at the base of
one of the poles, as if with vague purpose, which action
was remarked at least by Redmond.

Then, for the first time, he seemed to become aware
of their presence, and making a pitiful attempt to dis-
semble his condition and assume a smart, erect military
carriage he waved his riding-crop at them by way of
salutation. Something in his action, its graceful, airy
mockery, trivial though it was, impressed the gesture
firmly in Redmond's mind. He became cognizant of
a flushed, undeniably handsome face with reckless eyes
and mocking lips; a slimly-built figure of a man of
medium height, whose natural grace was barely con-
cealed by the short regimental fur coat.

Halting unsteadily within the regulation three paces
pending salute, he struck an attitude commonly affected
by Mr. Sothern, in "Lord Dundreary," and jauntily
twirled his crop, the while he declaimed: —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 67

"Waltz me round again, Willie, Willie,
Round and round and — "

"Round!" finished Slavin, with a horrible oath.
There seemed something shockingly aboriginal —
simian — in the swift, gorilla-like clutch of his huge
dangling hands, as they fastened on the throat and
shoulder of the drunken man and whirled him on his
back in the snow — something deadly anil menacing
in his hard-breathing, soft-brogued invecUve:

"Yeh bloody nightingale! come off th' perch!
I'm fed up wid yeh! — I'll waltz yeh! — I'll tache yeh
tu make a mock av Burke Slavin, time an' again 1
I'll — "

Redmond interposed, "Steady, Sergeant!" he im-
plored shakily, his hand on his superior's shoulder
"For God's sake — " '

But Slavin, in absent fashion, shoved hiir, off. He
seemed to put no effort in the movement, but the tense
muscular impact of it sent Redmond reeling yards
away.

"Giddap, Yorkey! God d n ye for a dhrunken

waster!— giddap! or I'll put th' boots tu yeh!"
Terrible was the menace of the giant Irishman's face,
his back-flung boot and his snarling, curiously low-
pitched voice.

68 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"No! nol Burke, old mani ... ah, don't!" gasped
the rich tenor voice pleadingly from the snow -"ah
don't, Burke! . . . remember, remember . . . st'
Agnes' Eve —

"St. Afnei' Evt.
The — "

Ah I bilttr chitt U was.

It broke -that throbbing voice with its strange
impassioned appeal. Far away over the snow the'
faint, silvery ring of a locomotive's gong fell upon the
ears of the trio almost like the deep, solemn tolling of
bells.

Then slowly, and seemingly in pain, the prostrate
man arose.

And yet! Redmond mused, sorry a figure as he cut
just then, minus fur-cap and plastered with snow
alone with the shame which was his, Lc had an air a
certain dignity of mien, this man, Yorke, which
stamped him far above the common run of men.

The junior constable, as he noted the dark hair
silvering and worn away at the temples, adjudged him
to be somewhere between thirty and forty - thirty-five
was his exact age as he ascertained later.

Now, with the air of a fallen angel, he stood there in
the cold, snow-dazzling moonlight; his face registering

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 69
silent resignation as to whatever else might befall
Wm. The sergeant had stepped forward. Redmond
Iooke.1 on, in dazed apprehension. A solemn hush had
fallen upon the strange scene, and stranger trio. Their
!^gures flung weird, fantastic shadows across the
diamond-sparkling snow<rust. George glanced at
Slavin, and that individual's demeanor amazed him stiU
further. The big man's face was transformed. There
seemed something very terrible just then iu the pathetic
working of his rugged features, as if he were str.vmj; tc
allay some powerful inward emotion. Then huAlly
but not unkindly -as perchance the father may have
spoken to the prodigal son - came his soft brogue:

"Get yu tu bed, Yorkeyl get yu tu bed, man! . . ,
an' thry me no morel . . . ."

Mutely, like a child, Yorke obeyed the order. Glanc-
ing at Redmond he turned and walked unsteadily into
the detachment.

Perturbed and utterly mystified at the sordid drama
he had witnessed, Its amazing combination of brutality
and pathos, George remained rooted to the spot as one
in a dream. Instinctively though, he felt that this was
not the first time of its enactment. Mechanically he
watched the door close; then sounding far off and in-

70 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

distinct, Slavin's hoarse whisper in his ear brought him
down to Mother Earth again with a vengeance:
"Did ye mark him stoop an' 'plant' th' 'hootch?' "
George nodded. "I wasn't quite wise to what he was
at," he answered.

"Let us go get ut!" said Sergeant Slavin grimly
marching to the spot, "I will not have dhrink brought
mto th' detachment! . . . 'tis against ordhers."

He bent down, straightened up, and turning to Red-
mond who had joined him exhibited a bottle. He held
it up to the light of the moon. It appeared to be about
half empty. Extracting the cork, he smelt.

•"Tis whiskey," he murmured simply — much as
Mr. Pickwick said: "It is punch." He made casual
examination of the green and gold label. «'Bi- ,'s
Oirish,' begob! . . . eyah! a brave ould uniform but"
— he turned a moist eye on his subordinate — "a
desp'ritly wounded souldier that wears ut — betther
out av pain. 'Tis an' ould sayin': 'Whin ye meet th'
divil du not turn tail but take um by th' harns.'
Bhoy! I thrust the honest face av yeh — I have tuk
tu ye since th' handy lad ye showt yersilf with that
team mix-up th' mom."
Redmond, mollified, grinned shiveringly. "I don't

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 71

mind a snort, Sergeant," he said, "it's d d cold out

here. Beer's more in my line though. Salue! "
He took d swallow or two; the bottle changed hands.
"Eyah!" remarked Slavin sometime later —
cuddling the bottle at the "port arms." « 'Tis put th'
kibosh on many a good man in th' ould Force has this
same dhrink. Th' likes av Yorkey there" — he jerked
his head at the lighted window — "shud never touch ut
— never touch ut! ... Cannot flirrt wid a bottle —
'tis wedded they wud be tu ut. Now meself" — he
paused impressively — "I can take me dhrink like a
ginthleman — can take ut, or lave ut alone."

Absorptive demonstration followed. Came a long-
drawn, smacking "Ah-hb!" "A sore thrial tu me is
that same man," he resumed, "wan more break on his
part, as ye have seen this night ... an' I musht— I
will take shteps wid um."

"Why don't you transfer him back to the Post?"
queried George, wonderingly, mindful of how swiftly
that disciplinary measure had rewarded his own reck-
less conduct at the Gleichen detachment. "He's got
nothing on you, has he?"

"Fwhat?" . . . Slavin, turning like a flash, glared
sharply at him out of deep-set scowling eyes, "Fwhat?"

72 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Tonelessly, George repeated his query.

Slavin's glare graduaUy faded. "Eyahl » he affirmed
presently, "he hasl . . ." came a long pause -"but
not as yu mane ut . . . ohi begorrah, no!" His eyes
gh-ttered dangerously and his wide mouth wreathed
into an unholy grin, " 'Tis a shmart man that iver puts
ut over on me at th' Orderly-room. . Fwhy du I not
siBd him into th' Post? . eyah! fwhy du I not.' "

Chin sunk on his huge chest, he mused awhiie.
George waited.

"Listen, bhoy!" A terrible earnestne* crept into
the soft voice. "I'll tell ye th' Ule. . . . -Twas up at
th' Chflkoot Pass - in the gold rush av '98. To-

gether -e was - Yorkey an' meself _ stationed the«^
undher ould Bobby Belcher. Wan night - Mother av
God! wiH I iver forghet ut? Bitther cowld is th'
Yukon, lad; th' like av ut yu' here in Alberta du not
know. Afther tu crazy lost cheeckacos we had been
that day. We found thim- frozen. ... A blizzard
had shprung up, but we shtrapped th' stiffs on th' sled
an' mushed ut oursilves tu save th' dogs.

"I am a big man, an' shtrong but Yorkey was

th' betther man av us tu that night - havin less weight
tu pack. I was all in - dhrowsy, an' wanted tu give

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 73

up th' ghost an' shleep_an' shleep Nigh unto

death I was. . . ."

The murmuring voice died away. A shudder ran
through the great frame at the remembrance, while
the hand clutching the bottle trembled violently Un-
consciously Redmond shook with him; for the horror
Slavin was living over again just then enveloped his
listener also.

"But Yorkey," he continued "wud not let me lie

down God 1 how that man did put his fishts an'

mucklucks tu me an' pushed an' shtaggered wid me
afther th' dogs, beggin' an' cursin an' prayin' an callin'
me names that ud fairly make th' dead relaUon av a

man rise up out av their graves Light-headed he

got towards th' ind av th' thrail, poor chap! shoutin'
dhrill-ordhers an' Injia naygur talk, an' singin' great
songs an' chips av poethry - th' half av which I misre-
mimber — excipt thim-thim wurrds he said this
night. '"Shaint Agnus Eve," ' he calls ut. Over an'
over he kept repeathin' thim as he helped me shtag-
gerin' along. . . 'God I' cries he. betune cursin' me an'
th' dogs an' singin' -Shaint Agnus Eve' — 'Qh, help us
this night! let us live, God! ... oh, let us live! -
this poor bloody Oirishman an' me! . .'"

74 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

The sergeant's head was thrown ba^>k now, gazing
full at the evening star the n>oonbeam's shining upon
his upturned, powerful face. Cold as was the night
Redmond could see glistening beads of sweat on his
forehead. As one himself under the spell of the fear of
death, the younger man silently watched that face -
fascinated. It was calm now, with a great and kindly
peace. Slowly the gentle voice took up the tale anew

"V.e made ut, bhoy - th' Post - or nigh tu ut
in th' break av th' dawn. ... For wan av th' dogs

yapped an' they come out an' found us in th' snow.
Yorkey, wid his arrums round th' neck av me — as'if
he wud shtill dhrag me on. . . . an' cryin' upon th'
mother that bore urn. . . . Ta men -in damned bad
shape -tu s' tiffs. ... an' but three dogs lift out av

th' six-team we'd shtarted wid So -now ye know

lad! ... Fwhat think ye? . . ."

What George thought was: "Greater love hath no
man than this." What he said was: "He's an English-
man, isn't he?"

Slavin nodded. "Comes of a mighty good family tu
they say, but 'tis little he iwer cracks on hmself 'bout
thim. Years back he hild a commission in some cavalry
reg'mint in Injia, but he got broke -over a woman

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 75

I fanc3. He^ knocked about th' wurrld quite a piece
-nee tl«n. Eyah! he tallcs av some c^re parts he's
been ^ Fvvhat doin7 Lord knows. Been up an-
down the ladder soce ., ..« outfit - sarjint one week
-full buck private n«t. Yeh know th' way these
gmthlemm-rankers run amuck?"

'"How does he get away with .. every time-" q«ried
Redmond. "Hasn't any civilian ever reported hin.^
the old man?" ^'i^ ut

"Vas! wance-an' 'Father,' th' ould rapparee' he
went ior me baldh^ded for not reporthin' uTtu " '
W:th a sort of miserable heartiness Slavin curbed

sis I r""'"- '"'"^ -' ^^" ^-

tol .' "" •" "^"^ ^ "^"^y --Pe. an' ivry

to.m. sez he, wid his ginthlemin's ^n,ii.: .^urke- Z

ye U,ry an' overlook it, ould ma„- ... Eyah ;^"
-ghty quare. For some rayson he seems tu hate 1^

tZ r B-T '""' '--' *'-' *' -" -^

wlv I„7. :""'""" ^"^^P^ here, any.

way. '"/what fashion he puts th' wind up thim

do not know: they will not talk, out av o2

^.ndness av heart an' rispict for m'ese.f, ^

But -a few days here, an' bingo: -they apply tr

76 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

thransfer. Now ye know ivrythin'. bhoy-fwhat
I am up against, an' fwhy I will not 'can' Yorkey
Yeve a face that begets thrust-do not bethray ut
but thry an' hilp me. Bear wid Yorke as best ye can
- dwilmmt an' all - for my sake, will yeh?"

Not devoid of a certain simple dignity was the grim,
rugged face that turned appealingly to the younger
man's m the light of the moon.

And Redmond, smiling inscrutably into the deep-set,
g^ittenng eyes, answered as simply: "l will. Sergeant! "
He dechned an offer. "Nemoyah, (No) thanks, I've
had enough." '

For some unaccountable reason, Slavin smiled also.

Se lefM S"' "'" ''"' "''^'''^ ^^Se's, while
the left descnbed an arc heavenwards. Came a throaty
gurgle, a careless swing of the arm, and -

"Bt lay hike a warrior latin' hi, rist
Wtd kts-~

"I misrlmimber th' tail-ind av ut," sighed Sergeant
Slavin, " Tis toime we turned in."

r= silence they re-entered the detachment. Yorke

^y,^" ""^""''"'' '"'''°^' ^"'' '"^-^r^e, lay'
stretched out upon his cot sleeping heavi.y, his flushed

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 77

reckless high-bred face pillowed on one outflung ann

Above h™, silent guardians of his r«t, his gro^Te*

nu. u.e Of pri.^ gleamed duskily in tl,; la^^h^"

Into Redmond's mind - sunk into a deep oMvton of

dreamy, chaotic thought -came a^ain si, • . .

"ShH.^.,.!,- . , came agam Slavm's words:

Shtudyth:mp:cthures,bhoyUn',byan'Iargeyehave
th'manhimsilf!"

drafted a ridiculously disturbing dream. That of
actually witnessing the terrible scene of the long^lead

ownT ?r.'"°' '''^■" «°^' --"'-« -^ his
own hand the three princes of Oude.

Inshalla! it was done-there! there! against the
cart, amidst the gorgeous setting of Indian smiset
^d gleaming minaret. "Deen, Ceen! Futteh
Moka^medr came a dying scream upon the last shot
-the smoking carbine was Jeri^ed back to the "re-

ErLT"'"'"' "^^ ^'^"^t-turbaned, scarlet-sashed
English officer gazed with ruthless satisfaction at his
treacherous victims then, turning sharply, faced him

And lo! to Redmond it seemed that the stem in-
tolerant, recklessly-handsomt countenance he locked
upon bore a striking resemblance to the face of Yorke

CHAPTER IV

Bis steeds to water at >■'■■ • springs —

And — "This to me'' he said,—
'Hark I hark I the krk .t Heimtn's Gam stssfs.

EARLY on the morrow it came to pass that
Sergeant Slavin, cooking breakfast for all hands,
heard Yorke's voice uplifted in song, as that
worthy made his leisurely toilet. He shot a slightly
bilious glance at Redmond, who, "Morning Stables"
finished, lounged nearby.

"Hear um?" he snorted enviously. "Singin'l singin'l
— forever singin'l — e>i»h! sich nonsince, tu."

But, to George, who possessed a musical ear, the
ringing tenor sounded rather airily and sweetly —

"Hark I hark I the lark at Heaven's Gate sints.

And Phoebus 'gins arise,
Bk steeds to water at those sprinis — "

"Fwhat yez know 'bout that?" Slavin forked
viciously at the bacon he was frying. "Blarney my
sowl! an' him not up for 'Shtables' at alll . . ."
78

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"With ev'rytkmi that pretty it: —
My lady sweet, arise I arise I
Uy lady sweet, arise 1"

"My lady shweet!" — Slavin snorted unutterable
things.

Yawning, the object of his remarks sauntered into
the kitchen just then, and, deeming the occasion now
to be a fitting one, the sergeant introduced his two
subordinates to each other.

Yorke, with a bleak nod and handshake, swept the
junior constable with a swiftly appraising glance. As
frigidly was his salutation returned. Redmond re-
marked the regular features, suggestive rather of the
ancient Norman type, the thin, curved, defiant nostrils
and dark, arching eyebrows. The face, with its inde-
finable stamp of birth and breeding was handsome
enough in its patrician mould, but marred some-
what by the Ihies of cynicism, or dissipation,
round the sombre, reckless eyes and intolerant
mouth. He had a cool, clear voice and a
whimsical, devil-may-care sort of manner that
was apparently natural to him, as was also a certain
languid grace of movement. He possessed an irritating
mannerism of continually elevating his chin and dilat-

«o THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

i^smB. Beyond a slight flush he showed little trace
of h« previous night's dissipation
"Where do you hail from?" he enquired of Geor«

< On'^r r^r °"^ ^' '^■^^^^ later. '

Ontario," replied George laconically, "„y people
are farmers down there." '^^

For a moment Yorke's arched brows lifted in puasled
sun)rise-came a repetition of his offensive snlll
--nensm; and he stared pointedly away aga ' j
w^ difficult to be more insulting in dumb Lw

towardly. I a„ go,„g to hate this fellow" he thought

Oh I don't knowl" Wearily, George shoved his
^ deep mto his pockets and leant back in his chair.

lete^ i°-r-^°"°*^- ^--atMcGiUfor
n« tones. I fell down on my exams ... ran amuck
wrth the wrong bunch an' all that -an' ^ an'

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 8,

ki»d of made a mess of things I gue„. . . . Wen^
broke - came West. . . . That's why »

W.th a forlori. sort of forced grin he gazed back at
his mterlocutor. York? ..nt.-.«j- .u

,. ^ " , *""'*• «»nheedmg the conversation

contmued h.s breakfast as if he were alone

•H-mm!" grunted Slavin, summing up the situaUon
with native simplicity, "That's ut, eh? -but for 2
ye have th' spache an' manners av a gin,h,«nan 1
ranker somehow - somehow I misdoubt ye're a wav
back waster like Misther Yorkey here < "

That hardened "ginthleman ," absently sipping his
llcZ 7 %^^^""^-''--e, patient U'af

3 the t ""^-^"''••"« — d to exist be-

tween the two men. Redmond, musing upon the
paJhetica„y.so.did drama he had witnessed^ rma^y
hours since, relapsed into a reverie of speculation.
The s, ence was suddenly broken by the sharp trill

Is-ta etr "^i" "°^^ '^'"''^'^^^ f-^ *e
mess tawe and answered it

NickTn/"L'"'"" ^'P"''"'' ^-'='-1. right
Oh hIm :;^ ' •"'" ■ '°"'y ^"' ^••''' "°" So long!
Oh,h 1 o N.,, May th'divilniver know yeV

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82 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Hobo worryin' Nick Lee at Cow Run. Scared av fire
in th' livery-shtable. Go yu', Yorkey!" He eyed George
a moment in curious speculation. "Yu' had betther go
along tu, Ridmond! Exercise yez harse an' " — he lit
his pipe noisily — "learn th' lay av th' thrails." He
turned to the senior constable. "If ye can lay hould av
th' J.P. there, get this shtiff committed an' let Ridmond
take thrain wid um tu th' Post. Yu' return wid th'
harsesl"

"Why can't Redmond nip down there on a way-
freight and do the whole thing?" said Yorke, a trifle
sulkily. "It seems rot sending two men mounted for
one blooming hobo."

"Eyah!'" murmured Slavin with suspicious mildness,
" 'tis th' long toime since I have used me shtripes tu
give men undher me wan ordher twice."

Yorke flashed a slightly apprehensive glance at his
superior's face. Then, without another word, he
reached for his side-arms, bridle, and fur-coat. He
knew his man.

Redmond followed suit and they adjourned to the
stable.

"I saw that beggar yesterday — on my way up,"
remarkad George, ill-adviaedly.

H'i

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 83

Yorke stared. "The hell you did! ... why didn't
you vag him then?" he retorted irritably.

Bursting with silent wrath at the "choke-off," with
difficulty Redmond held his peace. In silence they
saddled up and leading the horses out prepared to
mount. Yorke swung up on the splendid, mettled black
— "Parson." He had an ideal cavalry seat, and as with
an easy grace he gently controlled his impatient horse,
with an inscrutable, mask-like countenance he watched
Redmond and the sorrel "Fox."

With toe in the leather-covered stirrup the latter
reached for the saddle-horn. Poor George! fuming
inwardly over one humiliation caused him shortly to be
the recipient of another. Too late to his preoccupied
mind came Slavin's warning of the day before.

Like a flash the sorrel whirled to the "off-side" and
Redmond, swung off his balance, revolved into space
and was pitched on his hands and knees in the snow.
Fortunately his foot had slipped clear of the stirrup.
In this somewhat ignominious position dizzily he heard
Yorke's mocking tones:

"What are the odds on Fox, bookie? ... I'd like
a few of those dollars when you've quite finished
picking them all up."

84 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Wiih an almost superhuman effort the young feUow
controlled himself once more as he arose. Not lightly
had he given a promise. Silently he dusted the snow
from his uniform and strode over to where the sorrel
awaited him. The horse had made no attempt to run
away; apparently being an old hand at the game. It
now stood eying its dupe, with Lord knows what mirth
tickling its equine brain.

Slipping the "nigh" rein through the saddle-fork
then back to the cheek-strap again, George snubbed
Fox's head towards him, making it impossible for the
horse to whirl to the "off" as before. Warily and
quietly he then swung into the saddle and the two men
set off.

A few yards from the front of the detachment Yorke
suddenly pulled up and, dismounting, felt around in the
snow at the base of a well-remembered telephone-pole
It was Redmond's hour tc jeer now, if he had been
mmdful to do so. But another usurped that privilege.

A queer choking sound made tliem both turn round
Slavm, his grim face registering unholy mirth, lounged
m the doorway.

"Fwhat ye lukkin for, Yorkey?"

"Oh, nothing!" came that gentleman's answer.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 85

"Ye'U find ut in th' botUe thin."

Insult was added to injury by the sergeant casually
plucking that arUcle from it's "rist" and chucking it
over.

^^ Yorkers face was a study. "Oh! » cried he dismaDy,
"what witi . . . give three rousing cheersl" . He
mounted once more. "Well! there's no denying you are
one hell of a sergeant!"

That worthy one grinned at him toleranUy. "Get
yez gone!" he spat back, "an' du not linger tu play
craps on th' thrail either — th' tu av yez!"

Long and grimly, with his bald head sunk between
his huge shoulders, he gazed after the departing riders.
"Eyah! 'tis best so!" he murmured softly, "a show-
down - wid no ould shtiff av a >com Uke meself

tu butt in An', onless I am mistuk that same will

come this very morn, from th'luksavthinps. . . . Sind
th' young wan is as handy wid his dhooks as Brankley
sez he is! . . . Thin -an' on'y thin will there be
peace in th' fam'Iy."

He re-lit his pipe and, shading his eyes from the
snow-glare focussed them on two rapidly vanishing
black specks. "I wud that I cud see ut!" he sighed
plaintively, "I wud that I cud see ut!"

86 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

It was a glorious day, sunny and clear, with the
temperature sufficiently low to prevent the hard-packed
snow from ba'Jing up the horses' feet. The trail ran
fairly level along a lower shelf of the timber-lined foot-
hiUs, which on their right hand sloped gradually to the
barks of the Bow River in a series of rolling "downs."
Sharply outlined against the blu. ther the Sou' West-
ern chain of the mighty "Rockies" reared their rosily,
white peaks in aU their morning glory — silent
guardians of the winter landscape.

Deep down in his soul young Redmond harboured
a silent, dreamy adoration for the beauty of such
scenes as this. Under different conditions he would
have enjoyed this ride immensely. But now — with
his mind a seething bitter chaos consequent upon his
companion's incomprehensible behavior towards him,
he rode in a sort of brooding reverie. Yorke was
equally morose. Not a word had fallen from their lips
since they left the detachment.

Right under the horses' noses a big white jack-
rabbit suddenly darted across the snow-banked ruts
of the well-worn trail, pursuing its leaping erratic
course towards a patch of brush on the~river side.
Simultaneously the animals shied, with an inward trend,

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 87
cannoning their respective riders together. Yorke
reined away sharply and glared.
"Get overl" he said curtly, "don't crowd me!"
He spoke as a Cossack hetman might to his sotnia,
and, at his tone and attitude, something snapped within
Redmond. To his already overflowing cup of resent-
ment it was the last straw. His promise to Slavin he
flung to the winds, and it was replaced with vindictive
but cool purpose.

"Showdown!" he muttered imder his breath, "I
knew it had to come! " He was conscious of a feeling
of vast relief. Aloud he responded, blithely and rudely,
"Oh! to hell with yo«/"

Yorke checked his horse with a suddenness that
brought the animal back onto its haunches. Sitting
square and motionless in the saddle for a moment he
stared at George with an expression almost of shocked
amazement; then his face became convulsed with ruth-
less passion.

The junior constable had pulled up also, and now
wheeling "half-left" and lolling lazily in his saddle
with shortened leg stared back at his enemy with an
expression U -re was no mistaking. His debonair
young face had altered in an incredible fashion. Al-

88 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

though his lips were pursed up with their whistling non-
chalance his eyes had contracted beneath scowling
brows into mere pin-points of steel and ice. He looked
about as docile as a young lobo wolf — cornered.

"Ahl" murmured Yorke, noting the transformation;
and he seemed to consider. He had seen that look on
men's faces before. Insensibly, passion had vanished
from his face; the bully had disappeared; and in his
place there sat in saddle a cool, contemptuous gentle-
man.

"Are you talking back to me?" he said. He did not
look astounded now — seemed rather to assume it.

Redmond's scowlinj brows lifted a fraction. "Talk-
ing back?" he echoed, "surel Who the devil do you
think you're trying to come 'the Tin Man' over?"

Reluctantly Yorke discounted his first impressions.
Here was no self-conscious bravado. Warily he sur-
veyed George for a moment — the cool appraising
glance of the ring champion in his corner scanning his
challenger — then, swinging out of the saddle, he
dropped his lines and began to unbuckle his spurs. •

There was no mistaking his actions. Redmond
followed suit. A few seconds he looked dubiously at his
horse, then back at Yorke.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 89
"Oh, you needn't be scared of Fox beating it," re-
marked that gentieman a trifle wearily, "he'll stand as
good as old Parson if you chuck his lines down."

Shading his eyes from the sun-glare he took a rapid
survey of their surroundings, then led the -vay to a
wind-swept patch of ground, more or less bare of snow.
Arriving thither, as if by mutual consent they flung off
caps, side-arms, fur-coats and stable-jackets. Yorke,
a graceful, compactly-built figure of a man, sized
up his slightly heavier opponent with an approving
eye,

"You sUip good" he said carelessly. "Well! what's
it to be? . . , 'muck' or 'muffin'?"

"'MufBn' of rourie!" snapped Redmond angrily,
"what d'ye take me for? -a 'rough-house meal
ticket'?"

"All right '■ said Yorke soothingly, "don't lose your
temper 1"

It may have been a shrewdly-calculated attempt to
attain that end; and yet again it may have been only
sheer mechanical habit that prompted him to stretch
forth his hands in the customary salute of the ring.

With an inarticulate exclamation of rage tiie younger
man struck the proffered hands aside and led witii a

h >

».}:!(

90 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

straight left for the other's head. Yorke blocked it
cleverly and fell into a clinch.

"Ahl" murmured Yorke in his antagonist's ear with
a sinister smile, "rotten manners 1 for just that, my
buck, I'll make you scoff 'muffin' 'till you're quite
poorly 1"

Working his arms cautiously, he sprang clear of the
clinch, then, rushing his man and feintin.J! for the ribs,
he rocked Redmond's head back mth two terrific left
and right hooks to the jaw.

The jarring sting of the punches, although dazing
him slightly, brought Redmond to iiis senses, as he
realized how vulnerable his momentary loss of
tamper had rendered him. He now braced him-
self with dogged determination and, covering up
warily, circled his adversary with clever foot-work.
Yorke, tearing in again was met with one of
the cruelest jabs he had ever known — flush
in the mouth. Gamely he retaliated with a sting-
ing uppercut and a right swing which, coming home on
Redmond's cheek-bone, whirled him off his balance and
sent him sprawling.

Dazed, but not daunted, he scrambled to his feet
Yorke, blowing upon his knuckles with all the air of

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 91

an old-time "Regency blood," waited wi'i heaving

chest and scornful, narrowed eyes.

"Want to elevate the sponge?" he queried sneeringly.

No!" panted George grimly, "it was you st.-ti

the whole rotten dirty business, and, by guml I'll fi.ish

Dancing in and out he drew an ineffecUve left from
his opponent and countered with a pile-driving right
to the heart. Yorke gave vent to a groaning exclama-
tion a„d turned pale. He spat gaspingly out of his
mashed hps and propped Redmond off awhile- then
suddenly springing in again he attempted to mix it'
George was nothing loath, and the two men, standing
toe-to-toe, slugged each other with a perfect whirlwind
of damaging punche- to face and body.

Even in the giddy whirl of combat, in either man's
heart now was a wonder almost akin to respect for
each othw's ring knowledge and gameness. It was
not George's first bout by many, but the physical en-
durance of Ais hard, clean-hitting Corinthian of a man
was an astounding revelation to him; the science of the
graceful, narrow-waisted figure v s still as quick and
as punishing as a steel trap.
Yorke, for h!-= part, reflected with bitter irony how

92 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

utterly erroneous had been his primary calculations —
how Nemesis was hard upon his heels at last in the
guise of this relentless youngster, who fought like a
college-bred "Charley MitchftU."

Ding! dong! — hook, jab, uppercut, block, and
swing; in and out, back and forth, side-stepping and
head-work — one long exhausting round. Flesh and
blood could not stand the pace — though it was Red-
mond now who forced it. Neither of the men was in
training and the long strain began to tell upon them
both cruelly — especially upon the veteran Yorke.
Still, with frosted hair and streaming faces, the sweat-
soaked, bruised and bleeding combatants staggered
against each other and strove to make play with their
weary arms, until utter exhaustion rang the time gong.

Gasping and s-Aaying to and fro, his puffed lips
wreathed into a ghastly semblance of his old scornful
smile, Yorke dropp>ed his guard and stuck out his chin.
He mouthed and pointed to it tauntingly. In spite of
himself, a sorry grin flickered over George's battered,
weary young face. He mouthed back — speech was
beyond either; sagging at the knees he reeled forward
and his right arm went poking out in a wobbling, tm-
certain punch

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 93
It glanced harmlessly ovc. Yorke's shoulder, but the
violent impact of his body sent the other heavily to
the ground. An ineffectual struggle to mainuin his
equilibrium and he, too, fell — face downwards, with
his head pillowed on Vorke's heaving r'^est.

CHAPTER V

We're poor little lambs who've lost our teny,

Baal Baal Baal
We're little black sheep who've gone astray,

Baa — aa — oat
Centlemen-rankers out on the spree,
Damned from here to Eternity,
Cod ha' mercy on such as we.

Baa! Yah I Bah I

KIFLINO

A GREAT peace lay upon the frozen landscape —
the deep, wintry peace of the vast, snow-bound
Nor'West. A light breeze murmured over the
crisping snow, and moaned amongst the pines in the
timber-lined spurs of the foothills. High overhead in
the sunny, dazzling blue vault of heaven a huge solitary
hawk slowly circled with wide-spread, motionless wings,
uttering intermittently its querulous, eerie whistle.

Awhile the two exhausted men lay gasping for breath
— absolutely and utterly spent. Suddenly Yorke
shivered violently and sighed. Redmond raised him-
self off the prostrate form of his late opponent and,
staggering over to the pile of their discarded habili-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 95

ments, slowly and painfully he donned his fur coat
and cap; then, picking up Yorke's, he stumbled over to
the latter. The senior constable was now sitting up,
with arms drooping loosely over his knees. George
wrapped the coat around the bowed shoulders and put
on the cap.

"Vc: re cold, old manl " he said simply. "We'd best
gei .u' 'hings on now, and beat it."

V ^^' -Ay Yorke raised his head, and, at something he
beheld in that disfigured, but unalterably-handsome
face, Redmond's heart smote him.

Often in the past he had fondly imagined himself
nursing implacable, absolutely undying hatreds; brood-
ing darkly over injuries received in fancy or reality,
planning dire and utterly ruthless revenge, etc. But,'
deep, deep down in his boyish soul he knew it to be only
a dismal failure — that he could not keep it up. His
was an impulsive, generous young heart — equally
quick to forgive an injury as to resent one. Now in
his pity and misery he could have cried — to see his
erstwhile enemy so hopelessly broken in body and
spirit.

Therefore it did not occur to him that it was sheer
sentimental absurdity on his part now to drop on one

96 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

knee and put his arras around that shivering, pride-
broken form.

"Yorkey!" he mumbled huskily, "old man! . . .
Yor — "

He choked a bit, and was silent.

Waveringly, a skinned-knuckled, but sinewy, shapely
hand crept out and gently ruffled Redmond's curly
auburn hair. Vaguely he heard a voice speaking to
him. Could that tired, kind, whimsical voice belong
to Yorke? It said: "Reddy, my old son! . . . we're
still in the ring, anyway. . . . Seems — do what we
would or could — we couldn't poke each other
out. . . ."

Came a long silence; then: "If ever a man was sorry
for the rotten way he's acted, it's surely me right

now. . . . Got d d good cause to be p'raps. ... I

handed it to you about the sponge . . . egad! I well-
nigh came chucking it up myself — later. My colonial
oath! but you're the cleverest, gamest, hardest-hitting
young proposition I've ever ruffled it out with! . . .
Where'd you pick it up? Who's handled you?"

George slowly rose to his feet. "Man named Scholes
— down East" he answered. He eyed Yorke's face
ruefully and, incidentally felt his own, "I used to do

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 97
a bit with the gloves when I was at McGill. Talking
about sponges 1 — I only wish we had one now to
chuck up — in tangible fonn."

He abstracted the other's handkerchief and, rolling
it with his own into a pad dabbed it in the snow. Yorke
winced. "Hold still, old thing I" said Redmond, "we'll
have to clean off a bit ere we hit the giddy trail again."

For some minutes he gently manipulated the pad.
"There I you don't look too bad now. Have a go at me ! "

Figuratively, they licked each other's wounds awhile.
Yorke had grown very silent. Chin in hands and rock-
ing very slightly to and fro, all huddled up in his fur
coat, he gazed unseeingly into the beyond. His face
was clouded with such hopeless, bitter, brooding misery
that it worried Redmond. He guessed it to be some-
thing far deeper than the memory of their recent con-
flict. He strove to arouse the other.

"Talk about game cocks!" he began lightly. "Ten
years ago, say! you must have been a corker — regular
'Terry McGovern'."

"Eh ?" Yorke's far-away eyes stared at him vaguely.
"I was in India then. Army light-weight champion in
my day. Slavin wasn't joshing much at breakfast, by
gum I . , . Now we're here! . . . We're a bright

98 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

pair! " He made as though to cast snow upon his head,
"Ichabodl Ichabod! our glory has departed!"

He lifted up his tenor voice, chanting the while he
rocked —

"Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree.
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha' mercy on such as we,
Baal Yah I Bah I"

Redmond flinched and raised a weakly protesting
hand. "Don't, old man!" he implored miserably,
"don't! what's the — "

"Eh ! " queried Yorke brutally — rocking — "does it
hurt?"

"// the home we never write to, and the oaths we

never keep,
AndaUwe — "

"No! no! no! Yorkey!" George's voice rose to a
cry, "not that! ... quit it, old man! . . . that's one

of the most terrible things Kipling ever wrote

terrible because it's so absolutely, utterly hope-
less. ..."

"Well, then ! " said Yorke slowly —

"Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?"

"It wasn't beer," muttered Redmond absently, "it
was whi6key. Slavin and I draak it." With an effort

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 99

he strove to arouse himself out of the despondency
that he himself had fallen into.

"Listen 1 ... Oh 1 quit that d d rocking,

Yorkeyl . , . Listen nowl we've put up a mighty
good scrap against each other — we'll call that
a draw — let's put up another against our —

well! we'll call it our rotten luck . . . D n

it all, old man, we're not 'down an' outs'
doing duty in this outfit — the best military police
corps in the world! . . . Let's both of us quit squalling
this eternal 'nobody loves me' stuff! This isn't any
slobbery brotherly love or New Jerusalem business, or
anything like that, either. I'm not a bloomin' mission-
ary!" He qualified that assertion unnecessarily to
prove it. "But let's stick together and back each
other up — just us two and old man Slavin — make it
a sort of 'rule of three.' We can have a deuce of a
good time on this detachment then! . . ."

He spoke hotly, eagerly, with boyish fervour, his
soul in his eyes.

Yorke remained silent, with averted eyes. That im-
ploring, wistful, bruised young countenance was al-
most more than he could stand. George, dropping on
one knee beside him put a tremulous hand on the

loo THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

senior constable's shoulder. "What's wrong, Yorkey?"
he queried. He shook the bowed shoulder gently.
"What's made you consistently knock every third buck
that's been sent here? 'till they got fed up, and trans-
ferred? . . . They tried to put the wind up me about
it at the Post. What's bitin' you? I don't seem to get
your angle at all!"

"Oh, I don't know!" Yorke coughed an J spat
drearily. "Kind of rum reason, you'll think. Long
story — too long — dates back. Listen then! Ten
years back, in the pride of my giddy youth, I held a

Junior Sub's commission in the Lancers — in

India. This is just a synopsis of my case, mind! . . .
Well! the regiment was lying at Rawal Pindi, and — I
guess I kind of ran amuck there — got myself into a
rotten esclandre — entirely my own fault I'll admit:

Man is fire, and Woman h tow,

And the Devil, he comes and begins to blow —

the same old miserable business the world's fed up with.
Since then seems I've kind if made a mess of things.
Burke Slavin's about right — his estimate of me."
He sighed with bitter, gloomy retrospection. "I've
always had a queer, intolerant sort of temperament.
If I'd lived in the days of the Indian Mutiny I guess

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED loi

I'd have been in 'Hodson's Horse'." (Redmond started,
remembering his curious dream.) "He was a man after
my own heart," Yorke continued slowly, "resourceful,
slashing sort of beggar ... he ruffled it with a high
hand. Bold and game as Sherman, or Paul Jones, but as
ruthless as Graham of Claverhouse. He put the ever-
lasting fear into the rebels of Oude — something like
Cromwell did in Ireland. My old Governor served
through the Mutiny — he's told me stories of him. My
God!"

A He drew his fur coat closer round him. "Well!" —

Redmond watched the sombre profile — "as I was say-
ing ... I 'muckered'. . , , «ince then, with the years,
I guess I've been climbing down the ladder of illusions
till I'm right in the stoke-hole, and Old Nick seems to
grin and whisper: 'As you were! my cashiered Sub.—
As you were!' every time I chuck a brace and try to
climb up again. How's that for a bit of cheap
cynicism?" — the low, bitter laugh was not good to
hear — "Man!" — the brooding eyes narrowed —
"I've sure plumbed the depths — knocking around,
with the right to live. Port Said, Buenos Aires, Shang-
hai. . . . I've certainly travelled. Some day I'll throw
the book at you. Now — substance and ambition gone

102 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
by the board long ago, and mighty little left of prin-
ciple I guess — I am — what I am — everything except
a prodigal, or a remittance-man — I never worried
them at Home — that way. . . ."

He spoke with a sort of reckless earnestness that
moved his hearer more than that individual cared to
show. Redmond felt it was useless to offer mere con-
ventional sympathy in a case like this. He did the
next best thing possible — he remained silently atten-
tive and let tl.t other run on.

"You take three men now — stationed in the same
detachment," resumed Yorke wearily, "by gum! they're
thrown together mighty close when you come to think
of it. I;"s different to the Post, where there's a crowd.
Life's too short to start in explaining minutely just
what that difference is. Fact remains I ... to get
along and pull together they've got to like each other
— have something in common — give and take.

Otherwise the situation becomes d d trying, and

trouble soon starts in the family."

"By what divine right I should consider myself
qualified to — to — Oh! shut up, you young idiotl
. . ." Redmond, forehead pressed into the speaker's
shoulder, giggled hj-sterically in spite of himself —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 103

"Shut upl d'you hear? or I'll knock your silly block
off I"

The two bodies shook with their convulsive mer-
riment. "You ca:i't do it! old thing," came George's
smothered rejoinder, "and you know darned well you
can't — now 1 ... Go on, you bloomin' Hodsonl —
proceed ! "

Yorke gave vent to a good-natured oath. "Hodson?
... you do me proud, my buckl . . , Well now' —
this 'three men in a boat' business! . . . I'll admit
I 'rocked' it with Crampton. I virtually abolished
him because — oh 1 I couldn't stick the beggar al; all.
I simply couldn't make a pal of him. He was fairly
good at police work, but a proper cad, in my opinion.
Always swanking about the palatial residence he'd left
behind in the Old Country. He called it ' 'is 'ome' at
that. Typical specimen of the middle-class snob.
Followed Taylor. Thick-headed, serious-minded sort
of fool. Had great veneration for 'his juty.' No real
knowledge of the Criminal Code, and minus common
sense, yet begad! the silly beggar tried to be more
regimental that the blooming Force is Itself. I sys-
tematically put the wind up to him 'till he got cold feet
and quit."

I i

104 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Redmond recalled the fact that Taylor had been his
predecessor. "Followed I" he echoed mockingly, look-
ing up at his handiwork.

Yorke, with a twisted smile glanced down at the
bruised, but debonair young face. Benevolently he
punched its owner in the back. "Followed ... a cer-
tain young fellow, yclept 'Nemesis'," he said, "I sized
you up for one of these smart Alecks — first crack out
of the box, and egad! I think I'm about right."

Said Redmond, "How about our respected sergeant?
we seem to have forgotten him."

"Slavin?" ejaculated the senior constable; and was
silent awhile. There was no levity in him now. Slowly
he resumed, "I guess as much as it's humanly possible
for two men to knc / each other — down to the bed-
rock, it's surely Burke Slavin and I. Should too, the
years we've been together. The good old beggar 1 . . .
We slang each other, and all that . . . but there's too
much between us ever to resent anything for long."

"I know," said Redmond simply, "he told me himself
— last night."

"Eh?" queried Yorke sharply. "My God! . . .
Tchkk!" he clucked, and burying his hands in his face
he gave vent to a fretful oath. "My God ! " he repeated

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 105

miserably, "I'd forgotten — last night! ... 1 sure
must have been 'lit' ... to come that over old
Burke. . . .»

"You sure werel" remarked Redmond brutally.
"Keats' 'St. Agnes' Eve'! ... Oh, Lord!" ... He
drew in his breaili with a sibilant hiss, "There seems
something — S( mething devilish about — "

'I know! I know!" breathed Yorke tensely, "what
. . . you mean." His haggard eyes implored Red-
mond's. "No! no! never again ... I swear it. . . ."

There came a long, painful silence. "See here;
look!" began Yorke suddenly. He stopped and sur-
veyed Georgt a trifle anxiously. "Mind! ...I'm not
trying to justify myself but — get me right about this
now. Don't you ever start in making a mistake about
Slavin — blarney and all. No, Sir! I tell you when
old Burke runs amok in those tantrums he's a holy
fright. He'd kill a man. Might as well run up against
a gorilla."

A vision of the huge, sinister, crouching figure
seemed to rise up in Redmond's mind — the great,
clutching, simian hands.

"In India," continued Yorke, "we'd say he'd got a
touch of the 'Dulalli Tap.' The man doesn't know his

io6 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

own strength. I was taking an awful chance — getting
his goat like that last night. It's a wonder he didn't
kill me. He's man-handled me pretty badly at times.
Oh, well! I guess it's been coming to me all right.
Neither of us has ever dreamt of going squalling to the
Orderly-ioom over our . . . differ, nces. I don't think
Bu 's ever taken the trouble to 'peg' a man in his
life. Not his way. 'I must take shteps ! ' says he, and
'I will take shtepsl ' and when he starts in softly rubbing
those awful great g-ub-hooks he calls hands — to-
gether! . . . well! you want to look out."

Lighting a cigarette he resumed reminiscently:
"They were a tough crowd to handle up in the Yukon.
The devil himself 'd have been scared to butt in to that
'Soapy Smith' gang; but, by gum! they were afraid of
Slavin. He doesn't drink much now, but he did then
- mighty few that didn't — up there — and I tell you,
wen our own fellows got a bit leery of him -hen he
used Irt start in 'trailing his coat.' They were glad
when ht: 'came outside.' That's one of the reasons
why he's slioved out on a pra'rie detachment. He
wouldn't do at all for the Post. He never reports in
there more than he has to — dead scared of the old
man, who's about the only soul he is afraid ol on earth.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 107
The O.C.'s awful sarcasUc with him at times, and that
get's Burlie's goat properly. He sure does hate getting
a choke-off from the old man."

He grinned guiltily. "That's why he prefers to
wash tiie family linen strictiy at home — what littie
Uiere is. But, sarcasm and all, the O.C. gives him
credit for being onto his job — and it's coming to him,
too. He's quick acting and he's got tiie Criminal Code
well-nigh by heart. Regular blood-hound when he
starts in working up a case."

He yawned, and rising stiffly to his feet stretched
hr> -ramped limbs. "We-11! Reddy, my giddy young
hopeful I— Now we've fallen on each other's ruddy
necks and kissed and wept and had a heart-to-heart
talk we'll — "

"Aw, quit making game, Yorkey! Is it a go? You
know what I said?"

Strangely compelling, Yorke found that bruised,
eager, wistful young face, with its earnest, honest eyes.
"All right!" he agreed, with languid bonhomie.
"You've certainly earned tiie office of Dictator, and, as
I remarked — we really have quite a lot in common.
Mind, tiiough, you don't repent of your bargain. One
thing!" Uie curved, defiant nostrils dilated faintiy.

io8 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Seems the world always has use for us runagates in
one capacity. It's just the likes of us that compose the
rank and file of most of the Empire's military police
forces. Who makes the best M.P. man, executing duty,
say, in a critical life-and-death hazard? The cautious,
upright, model young man, with a tender regard for
a whole skin and a Glorious Future? Or the poor

devil Vi -'s lost all, and doesn't care a d n? We

tackle the world's dangerous, dirty criminal work and
— swank and all — Society don't want to forget it."

He pointed to their horses who were playfully rear-
ing and biting at each other in equine sport. "Look at
old Parson and Fox tryin' to warm themselves?
Bloomin' fine example we've set 'em. Well! allonst
mon camarade, let's up and beat it."

CHAPTER V

A deed accursed I Strokes have been struck before
By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt

If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
But this foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out.

THOMAS TAyLOg

HASTILY dressing, the two policemen mounted
and took the trail once more. Side by side
as they rode along, in each man's heart was
an estimate of the other vastly different from that
with which they started out that memorable morning.
Yorke, his spirits now fully recovered, became quite
companionably communicative, relating picturesque,
racy stories of India, the Yukon, and other countries
he had known. George, in receptive mood, listened
in silent appreciation to one of the most fascinating
raconteurs he had ever met in his young life. Inci-
dentally he felt relieved as he noted his comrade now
tactfully avoiding morbid egotism — dwelling but
lightly upon the milestones that marked his chequered
career.

The bodily stiffness and soreness, consequent upon
109

no THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

their recent bout, was now well-nigh forgotten, though
occasionally they laughingly rallied each other as the
sharp air stung their bruised faces. They were just
surmounting the sununit of a long, steep grade in the
trail.

Said Redmond dubiously: "See here; look! I'm
darned if I like getting the freedom of the City of
Cow Run sportin' such a pretty mug as this! How
many more miles to this giddy burg, old thing?"

Yorke grinned unfeelingly. "Hard on nine miles to
go yet. We're about half way. Isch ga bibblel . . .
open your ditty-box and sing! you blooming whip-
poor-will."

"A merry heart goes all the vay.
But a sad one tires in a mile a*;
A — "

The old lilt died on his lips. With a startled oath
he reined in sharply and, shielding his eyes from the
sun-glare, remained staring straight in front of him.
They had just topped the crest of the rise. The east-
ward slope showed a low-lying, undulating stretch of
snow-bound country, sparsely dotted with clumps of
poplar and alder growth, through which the trail
wound snake-like into the fainter distance. South-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED iii

wards, below the rolling, shelving benches, lay the
river, a steaming black line, twisting interminably be-
tween frosty, bush-fringed banks.

No less startled than his companion, Redmond
pulled up also and stared with him. Not far distant
on the trail ahead of them they beheld a dark,
ominous-looking mass, vividly conspicuous against the
snow. Suddf-ly the object moved and resolved it-
self unmistakably into a horse struggling to rise. For
an instant they saw the head and the fore-part of
the body lift, and then flop prone again. Close
against it lay another dark object.

"Horse down ! " snapped Yorke tersely. "Hell ! " he
added, "looks like a man there, tool come on
quick!"

Responding to a shake of the lines and a fierce
thrust of the spurs, their horses leapt forward and
they raced towards their objective.

"Steady! steady!" hissed Yor checking his
mount as they drew near the fallen animal and its
rider, "pull Fox a bit. Red ! Mustn't scare the horse ! "
Slackening into a walk, they flung out of saddle,
dropped their lines, crouched, and crept warily for-
ward. The horse, a big, splendid seal-brown animal.

112 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

had fallen on its right side, with its off fore-leg
plunged deep in a snow-filled badger-hole. The body
cf the man lay also on the off-side with one leg under
his mount. The stiffened form was a ghastly object
to behold, being literally encased in an armour-like
shell of frozen, claret-coloured snow.

At the approach of the would-be rescuers the poor
brute whinnied pitifully and made another ineffec-
tual attempt to rise. Yorke flung himself onto the
head and held it down, while George dived frantically
for the man's body, and tugged until he had got the
leg from under.

"Hung up! by God!" gasped the former, "his foot's
well-nigh through the stirrup!"

Redmond, ex-medical student, made swift examina-
tion. "Dead!" he pronounced with finality, "Good
God! dead as a herring! The man's been dragged
and kicked to death!" He niade a futile effort to
release the imprisoned foot.

"No! no!" cried Yorke sharply, "no use doing that
if he's dead. Coroner's got to view things as they
are."

The horse began to struggle again painfully. Peer-
ing down the badger-hole they could see the broken

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 113

bone of its leg protruding bloodily through the skin.
Yorke released one hand and reached for his gun.

"Poor old chap!" he said, "we'll fix you. Quick
Red! pull the body as far back as the stirrup-lega-
deiro'll go! That'll do! There, old boy! . . ."

And with practised hand he sent a merciful bullet
crashing through brain and spinal cord. The hind
legs threshed awhile, but presently, with a muscular
quiver they stiffened and all was still. Yorke, re-
leasing his hold struggled to his feet, and the two
r.-^n stared pityingly at what lay before them. What
those merciless, steel-shod hoofs had left of the head
and the youthful body indicated a man somewhere
in his twenties. His ice-bound outer clothing con-
sisted of black Angora goatskin chaps and a short
sheepskin coat.

"Can't pkce him — like this," muttered Yorke, after
prolonged scrutiny, "but I seem to know the horse."

Suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation — some-
thing between a groan and a cry. Redmond, startled
at a new horror apparent on the other's ghastly face,
clutched him by the arm.

"What's up?" he queried tensely.

Yorke struggled to speak. "Fox!" he gasped pres-

114 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

entiy — "this morning. ... I never told you. My
God! —You might have got hung up like this, too."

"No I nol Yorkey!" Redmond almost shouted the
disclaimer, "Slavin wised me up to that trick of his
yesterday. I forgot. It was my own fault I got
piled like that. Forget it, old man ! I say forget it!"

He shook the other's arm with a sort of savage
gentleness.

A look of vague relief dawned on Yorke's haggard
face. "Ay, so!" he murmured, and paused with brood-
ing indecision. "That's absolved my conscience some,
but not altogether."

They remained silent awhile after this. Presently
Yorke pulled himself together and spoke briskly and
decisively. "WJl, now! we'll have to get busy.
Blair's place is only about three miles from here —
nor'east — they're on the long-distance 'phone. Doc-
tor Cox of Cow Run's the coroner for this district.
If I can get hold of him I'll get him to come out
right-away — and I'll notify Slavin."

Catching up his horse he swung into the saddle.
"I'll be back here on the jump. You stick around,
and say, Reddy, you might as well have a dekho at
the lay of things while you're waiting. Where he

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED iij

came off the perch, how far he's been dragged, and
all Uiat. Be careful though, keep well to the side and
don t foul up the tracks. And don't get too far away
either 1" ■"

He galloped off and soon disappeared over a distant
rise. Left to himself George mounted Fox and set to
work to follow out the senior constable's instructions.

"Well?" queried Yorke, swinging wearily out of his
saddle an hour or so later, "How'd you make out>
*md the place where he flopped? Rum sort of perch
you ve got there -you look like Patience on a monu-
ment!"

George, seated upon the rump of the dead horse
nodded and grunted laconic response: "Sure 'Bout
two miles down the trail there. How'd you get along,
Yorkey? Did you raise Slavln and the coroner?"
'-Got Slavin all hunkadory," said the senior con-
stable briefly, "he should be here soon, now. Dr
Cox'd just left for Wilson's, two miles this side of
Cow Run. They're on the 'phone, too; so I left word
there for h.m to come on here right away." He seated
himself alongside the other.
Awhile they carried on a desultory, more or less

ii6 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

speculative conversation anent the fatality, until they
grew morbidly weary of contemplating the poor
broken body. Yorke slid off the dead horse suddenly.
"Wish Slavin were here!" he said, "let's take a dekho
from the top of the rise, Reddy, see'f we can see
him coming. I'm getting cold sitting here."

Redmond, notiiing Icdtii, complied. Mounting, they
turned back to the summit of the ridge. Reaching it,
the jingle of bells smote their ears, and they espied
the Police cutter approaching them at a rapid pace.

"Like unto Jehu, the son of Nimshi!" murmured
Yorke, "he's sure sprin^'ng old T and B up the
grade."

Sergeant Slavin pulled up his smoking team along-
side his two mounted subordinates. "So ho, bhoys!"
was his greeting, "fwhat's this bizness?"

Yorke rapidly acquainted him with all the details.
At one point in his narration he had occasion to turn
to George: "That's how it was, Reddy?" And the
latter replied, "That's about tiie lay of it, Yorkey."

The sergeant listened, but absentiy. To them it
did not seem exactiy to be an occasion for levity;
but they could have sworn tiiat, behind an exaggerated
grimness of mien, he was striving to suppress some

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 117

inward mirth, as his deep-set Irish eyes roved from
face to face.

"Yez luk as if yez had been hung up an' dhragged
tu — th' pair av yez," he remarked casually.

Remembrance smote the two culprits. They ex-
changed guilty glances and swallowed the home-thrust
in silence.

Slavin clucked to his team. "Walk-march, thin!"
said he.

Wheeling sharply about, they started down the trail
again, the cutter following in their wake. If their con-
sciences would have permitted them to glance back
they would have remarked their superior's face regis-
tering unholy delight.

Out of the corner of his mouth Redmond shot,
tensely, "Dye think he — "

"Oh!" broke in Yorke resignedly, sotto voce. "You
can't fool him I . . . Isch ga bibble, anyway!"

"Yorkey!" an' "Reddy!" that worthy was mum-
bling to himself — over and over again, "Yorkey!"
an' "Reddy!" " 'Tis so they name each other — now!
Blarney me sowl! 'Tis come about! Fifty-fifty, tu
— from th' mugs av thim. Peace, perfect peace, in
th' fam'ly at last! Eyah! I wud have given me

ii8 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

month's pay-cheque for a ring-side seat." He sighed
deeply.

They reached the fatal spot. Slavin, his levity gone,
stepped out of the cutter and, retaining the lines of
his restive team, stared long at the gruesome spectacle
before him, with a sort of callous sadness.

"These tu must have lain here th night," he re-
marked, indicating the frost-rimed forms, "have yez
sized things up? Got th' lay av fwhete ut happened?"

Redmond made affirmative response.

"Can you place him, Sergeant?" queried Yorke.

"Eyahl Onless I am vastly mishtuk. Whoa, now!
shtand still, ye fules! Fwhat yez a-scared av? Here,
Yorkey! hold T an' B a minnut!"

He pushed over his lines to the latter and, pro-
ducing a pair of leather-cased brand-inspector's
clippers, he cropped bare a circular patch on the de-
funct horse's nigh shoulder. Shorn of the thick, seal-
brown winter hair, the brand was now plainly visible.
Enlighteimient came to Yorke in a flash, as he peered
over his superior's shoulder.

"D Two!" he gasped, "I knew I'd seen that horse
somewhere! It's 'Duster,' Larry Blake's horse.
Tchkk! this must be him. My God!"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 119
"Shure!" snapped Slavin testily. "Wake up! Is
yeh're mem'ry goin', man? One av yeh're own
cases last month, tu!" He tenderly pocketed the
clippers. "Yes! ye shud know him!" — dryly —
"lukked troo th' bottom av a glass wid him often
enough."

"Let's see'f he's got any letters or anything in his
pockets— to make sure!" began Redmond eagerly.
Si-'iting the action to the word he bent down to iu-
vestijate. But Slavin intruJed a huge arm. "Hould
on, bhoyl" he said, with all an old policeman's fussi-
ness over rightful procedure. "Du not touch! That
b th' coroner's bizness. Did they not dhrill that inta
yeh at Regina?"

He stared thoughtfully at the corpse. "Dhrink an'
th' divil! eyah! dhrink an' th' divil !" — sadly.
"Larry, me pore bhoy! niver more will ye come a-
whoopin' ut out av Cow Run on yeh 'Duster' horse
. . . shpiflicated belike an' singin' 'Th' Brisk Young
Man." Austerely he glanced at Yorke, " 'Tis a curse,
his same dhrink!"

"How do you know the poor beggar was drunk?"
queried the latter, a trifle sulkily. "He may have
been as sober as you or I."

120 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Shpeak for yehsilf!" retorted Slavin dryly, "Ah I
this must be Docthor Cos comin' now I"

A cutter containing two men was approaching them
rapidly. Presently it drew up alongside the group
and a short, rotund gentleman, clad in furs, sprang
out and came swiftly, bag in hand. He was middle-
aged, with a gray moustache and kind, alert, dark
eyes. Greeting the policemen quietly, he turned to
the broken body.

"Tchkkl good God I" He shook his head sadly.
Redmond thought he had never seen a medical man
so unprofessionally shocked. Presently he straight-
ened up and turned to Slavin. "Can you identify him,
Sergeant?"

That worthy nodded. "Eyah! 'tis Larry Blake,
I'm thinkin', Docthor. Best frisk him now an' see,
I guess. Maybe he has letthers."

Hastily diving into his bag the coroner produced a
pair of long keen scissors and slit the short, frozen
sheepskin coat. In the breast-pocket of the coat un-
derneath, amongst other miscellany two old letters re-
warded his search. He glanced at the superscriptions
and handed them up to Slavin.

"Larry Blake it is," he said. He felt the soggy.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED m

pulped head. "Skull's stove righi in. Any one of
these smashes would have sufficed to kill him." He
clipped the hair around a ghastly gaping crevice at
the base of the head.

Suddenly he peered closely, uttered an exclamation,
peered again and drew back. "Sergeant I" he said
sharply, "D'ye see that? — No need to ask you what
that is I" In an unbroken portion of the back of the
skull he indicated a small, circular orifice. The trio
craned forward and made minute examination. Slavin
ejaculated an oath and glanced up at Yorke — almost
remorsefully.

"I take ut all back," he said. Meeting the coroner's
blank, enquiring stare he added: "Booze, Docthor —
we thought ut might be. . . . Yeh know Larry!"

The physician of Cow Run nodded understardingly.
Slavin bent again and made close scrutiny of the
bullet-hole. "Back av th' head, no powdher marks!"
He straightened up. "Docther, are ye thru? All right,
thin! Guess we'll book up an' start in."

Methodically they all produced note-books and en-
tered the needful particulars. The lanky individual
who had driven the coroner out brought forward a
tarpaulin and spread it on the ground. With some

122 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

difficulty the over-shoed foot was disengaged from the
imprisoning stirrup, the body rolled in the tarpaulin
and deposited in the rear of the doctor's cutter. The
saddle and bridle were flung into the Police cutter.
They then rolled the dead horse clear of the trail.

That night the coyotes held grim, snarling carnival.

Slavin turned to Redmond. "Ye've located th'
place, eh?" The latter nodded. "Al! right, thin, get
mounted, th' tu av yez, an' lead on!"

Keeping heedfuUy wide of the broad, claret-be-
spotted swath in the snow, the party started trailing
back. Yorke and George rode ahead. The latter
glanced around to make sure of being out of earshot of
their sergeant.

"We-U of all the hardened old cases! . . . Slavin
sure does crown 'em!" he muttered to his comrade.

"Hardened!" Yorke laughed grimly. "You should
have seen him up in the Yukon! The man's been
handling these rotten morgue cases 'till he'd qualify
for the Seine River Police. He's got so he ascribes
well-nigh everything now to 'dhrink an' th' divil.' "
His face softened, "but I know the real heart of old
Burke under it all."

About two miles down the trail Redmond halted.

THE LUCK OF TH^ MOUNTED 123
"Here it isl» he said. And Le indicted an irregular
blood-soaked, clawed-up prfch in the sr.w where the
sanguinary swath ended. Iley dismr anted. Slavin
drawing up alongside the coroner's cutter handed over
his lines to the teamster.

"Now!" said he, "let's shtart in! . . . Ye must
have shpotted this on yeh way up, Docthor?" He
pomted to the patch.

The latter nodded. "Yes! we thought it must have
happened here."

For some few seconds, with one accord the party
stared about them at their surroundings. The frozen
landscape at this point presented a singularly lonely
desolate aspect. Flat, and for the greater part abso-
lutely bare of brush; save where from a small coulee
some half mile to the left of the trail the tops of a
cotton-wood clump were visible. Far to the right-
hand, more than a mile away, stretched the first of
the shelving benches, where the high ground sloped
away m irregular jumps, as it were, to the river

"Best ye shtay fwhere ye all are," cautioned the
sergeant, " 'till I size up th' lay av things a bit I
du not want th' thracks fouled up. H-mml let's see
now!" He remained in deep, thoughtful silence a

124 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

space. "Thravellin' towards us," he muttered — "th'
back av th' head!"

Hands clasped behind bent back, and with head
thrust loweringly forward from between his huge
shoulders he paced slowly down the trail for some
hundred yards. That grim, intent face and the sway-
ing gait reminded Redmond of some huge bloodhound
casting about for a scent.

Halting irresolutely a moment, Slavin presently
faced about and returned. "Wan harse on'y!" he
vouchsafed to their silent looks of enquiry. "He had
not company. Must have been shot from lift or right
av th' thrail." He stared around hii.i at the bare sweep
of ground. "Now fwhere cud any livin' man find
cover here in th' full av th' moon, tu get th' range wid
a small arm? He wud show up agin' th' snow like th'
ace av shpades an' he thried."

Suddenly his jaw dropped and he stiffened.
"Ah-hh ! " His eyes rivetted themselves on some object
and his huge arm shot out. "Fwhat's yon?"

They all stared in the direction he indicated. Plas-
tered with frosted snow, until it was all but undis-
cernible against its white background, lay an enor-
mous boulder — a relic, perchance, of some vast pre-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 125

historic upheaval. It was situated at an oblique angle
to the trail, about a hundred yards distant

With stealthy, quickened steps Slavin made his way
Rewards u. Tensely they watched him. m each man'
mmd now was a vague feeling of certainty of some-
thmg they knew not what. They saw him reach the
boulder, walk round it and stoop, peering at its bat
for a few moments. Then suddenly he straightened
up and beckoned to them.

"Thread in file," he called out warningly. Yorke
ed, and, treading heedfully in each other's foot-marks
they reached the spot. Slavin silently pointed down-'
wards. There, plainly discernible on the surface of the
wmd-packed, hard-crust. . ^w, were the corrugated
.-pnnts of cvershoed . _comi„g and going
apparently .n the direction of the previously mentioned

Redmond indicated two rounded impressions at the
foot of the boulder, with two smaller ones behind.
Must have hunched himself on his knees behind,
eh? he queried in a low voice

Slavin nodded. The rays of the westering sun com-
ng from back of a doud glinted on something in
the snow, a few feet away from the tracks. It caught

126 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Yorke's eyes and with an exclamation he picked
it up.

" — gold, raw gold, the spent shell rotted — "

he quoted. "Here you are, Burke!"

Slavin uttered a delighted oath as he examined the
small, bottle-necked shell of the automatic variety.
".38 Luger!" he said. "A high-pressure 'gat' like that
is oncommon hereabouts!" Passing it on to the
coroner he whistled softly. "My God! Fwhativer sort
av a gun-artist is ut that — even allowin' for th' moon-
light — can pick a man off thru' th' head wid a re-
volver at this distance? ... an' wan shell on'y? . . .
'Soapy Smith' himself cu'dn't have beat this!"

He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of
the imprints, then, producing an old letter from his
pocket, he flattened out the type-written sheets of
foolscap therein. Placing the blank side of the sheet
face-downwards upon the imprint he pressed down
smartly. The result was a very fair impression of the
footmark, which he immediately outlined in pencil.

A strange ominous silence fell upon the group. Deep
in wild, whirling conjecture, each man gazed about hiui.
The desolate, sinister aspect of their surroundings

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 127

struck them with a sudden chill. Yorke voiced the
general sentiment.

"My Godl" he said in a low voice, "but it sure is
dreary!"

With a final, self-satisfying survey at his "lay av
things" Slavin stepped weU to the side of the incrimi-
nating foot-prints. "Come on!" he said "get in file
behmtme! We will follow this up!"

Silently they obeyed and padded in his rear.

"^ ^ '''g feet, whoever owns 'em," remarked
Redmond to Yorke.

Slavin heard him. "Ay!" he flung back grimly.
An they will shtand on th' dhrop yet-thim same
feet!"

The tracks returning in the direction of the coulee
presented a vast contrast to the approaching imprints.
Where the latter denoted an even, steady stride, the
former ran in queer, irregular fashion - sometimes
bunched together, and at others with wide spaces
between.

'"On th' double!'" reiwrked Slavin observantly.
Must have got scairt!"

"Ahl" murmured the coroner, reflectively, "though
the Bible doesn't expressly state so, I guess Cain, too,

128 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

got on the 'double' as you call it — after he killed
Abel."

They finally reached the coulee where the tracks,
debouching from the steep edge, passed along its rim
and presently descended the more shallow end of the
draw. Their leader eventually halted at the foot of a
small cotton-wood tree where the human foot-prints
ended. There in the snow they beheld a hoof-trampled
space, which, together with broken twigs, indicated a
tethered horse.

This served for comment and speculation awhile.
The sergeant, producing a small tape measure dotted
down careful measurements of the over-shoed imprints
and their length of stride, also the size of the shod
hoof-marks.

Redmond drew his attention to blood-stains in
several of the latter. "Shod with "never-slip'
calks, Sergeant 1" he said. "Must have slipped
somewhere and 'calked' himself on the 'coronet,'
I guess?"

"Eyah!" muttered Slavin approvingly, "Th' 'nigh-
hind' 'tis, note, bhoy! . . . 't'will serve good thrailin'
— that. Well, let's follow ut onl"

Wearily his companions plodded on in his wake.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 129

The tracks, after following the draw for a short dis-
tance, suddenly wound up a steep, narrow path on
the left side of the coulee. Reaching the surface of
the level ground, they circled until they struck into the
main trail east again, about a mile below where the
party had left their horses. Here, merged amongst
countless others on the well-travelled highway, they
became more difficult to trace, though occasionally the
faint blood-stains proclaimed their identity.

Slavin pulled up. "Luks as if he'd shtruck back tu
Cow Run again," he said with conviction. "Must
have come from there, tu — thracks was goin' and
comin' an' ye noticed, fwhin we climbed out av th'
coulee back there. We must luk for a harse wid th*
nigh-hind badly 'calked.' Yorkey! yu' get back an'
tell that Lanky Jones feller tu come on. Hitch yez
own harses behint our cutter an' take th' lines." He
squinted at the sun and pulled out his watch. " 'Tis
four o'clock, begob! 'T'will turn bitther cowld whin
th' sun goes down."

The coroner smiled knowingly. "Talking about
'calks'!" he remarked; and diving into the deep re-
cesses of his fur coat he produced a comfortable-look-
ing leather-encased ilask. "A little 'calk' all round

130 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
won't hurt us after that tramp, Sergeant I" he observed
kindly.

Their transport presently arriving, they proceeded
on their way to Cow Run, Yorke and Redmond watch-
ing carefully for any tracks debouching from the main
trail. Occasionally they dismounted to verify the in-
criminating hoof-prints which still continued east-
ward. In this fashion they finally drew to the level
of the river, where the trail forked; one arm of it
following more cr less the winding course of the Bow
River back westward. At this junction they searched
narrowly until they found unmistakable indication of
the blood-tinged tracks still heading in the direction of
Cow Run.

"What was that case of yours, Yorkey?" enquired
Redmond. "You know — what Slavin was talking
about?"

"Mix-up over that horse," replied Yorke laconically,
"disputed ownership. A chap named Moran tried to
run a bluff over Larry that he'd lost the horse as a
colt. They got to scrapping and I ran 'em both up be-
fore Gully, the J. P. here. Moran got fined twenty
dollars and costs for assaulting Blake. Say! look at
that sky! Isn't it great?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 131
They turned in their saddles and looked westward.
Clean-cut against a pale yellow-ochre background and
enveloped in a deep purple bloom, the mighty peaks
of the distant "Rockies" upreared their eternal snow-
capped glory in a salute to departing day. Above,
where the opaline-tinted horizon shaded imperceptibly
into the deep ultramarine of evening, lay glowing
streamers of vivid crimson cloud-bank edged with the
gleaming gold of the sunset's after-glow.

It wa^ a soul-filUng sight. Against it the sordid
contrast of the sinister business in hand smote them
like a blow from an unseen hand, as they resumed
their monotonous scanning of the trail on its either
side.

Yorke presently voiced the impression in both their
hearts. "My God!" he murmured "the bitter irony
of it! 'Peace on Earth, gouJwill towards men' .
and thisl— what?"

.:.!

CHAPTER VII

Okl Bad Bill Brougk, a way-back touth

Raised hell when he struck luc^ii;
Wilh gun-in-fist met Sergeant T-^ist —

It sure was some show-down.

BALtAD OF SERGEANT TWIST

COW RUN was reached in the gathering dusk.
Seen under winter conditions the drab little
town looked dreary and uninviting enough as the
party negotiated its m: "i street. A fram>^ -built hotel, a
livery-stable, a smail -'..rch, a school-house, a line of
false-fronted stores, and some three-score dwellings
failed to arouse in George an enthusiastic desire to
become a permanent resident of Cow Run.

The corpse they deposited temporarily in an empty
shack situated in the rear of the doctor's residence.
From long usage this place had come to be accepted
as the common morgue of the district. After arranging
details with the coroner anent the morrow's inquest,
and carefully searching the dead man, the sergeant and
his two subordinates repai.ed to the livery-stable to
put up their horses.

'32

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 133
Nicholas Lee, the keeper of this establishment,
greeted them with wheezy cordiality, apportioned to
them stable-room and guaranteed especial care of their
horses. In appearance that worthy would have made a
passable understudy for the elder Weller, being red-
faced, generous of girth and short of breath. In
addition to his regular calling he filled —or was sup-
posed to fill— the office of "town constable" and pound-
keeper. A sort of village "Dogberry." Incidentally
it might be mentioned tliat he also could have laid
claim to be a "wictim of circumstances"; having but
recently contracted much the same sort of hymeneal
bargain as did the Dickensian character. The sym-
pathy of Cow Run, individually and collectively, was
extended to him on this account.

From his somewhat garrulous recital of the day's
events it was satisfactorily evident to his hearers that
wind of the murder had not struck Cow Run as yet.
For obvious reasons Slavin had enjoined strict secrecy
upon Lanky Jones, Lee's stable-hand.

"Ar!» wheezed Lee "It's a good job yu' fellers is
come. That ther 'Windy Moran's' bin raisin' hell over
in the hotel th' las' two days. He got to fightin' ag'in
las' night with Larry Blake — over that hawss. Bob

134 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Ingalls an' Chuck Reed an' th' bunch dragged 'em
apart an' tol' Larry to beat it back to his ranch —
which he did. Windy — they got him to bed, an' kep'
him ther all night, as he swore he'd shoot Larry. He's
still over ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' oS what he's
goin' t' do."

He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating
deeply in his throat: "Stirrin' timesi arl stirrin' times!
. . . Now — 'bout that ther hobo, Sargint — "

"Awl damn th' hobol" exploded Slavin impatiently.
"Here, Nick 1 show me Windy 'sharse. Fwhat? Niver
yeh mind fwhat for. . . now! Yu'U know all 'bout
that later."

His native curiosity balked, the old gossip, with
a slightly injured air, indicating a big sorrel saddle-
horse standing in a stall opposite the Police team.
Slavin backed the animal out. It seemed to be lame.
With fierce eagerness they examined its "nigh-hind"
lef — and found what they sought for.

For there — where the hair joins the hoof, techni-
cally known as the "coronet" — was a deep, jagged
wound, such as is caused usually by a horse slipping
and jabbing itself with sharp-pointed shoe-cai'«. The
hoof itself was stained a dull red where the blood had

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 135

run down. Slavin picked up a fore-foot and exhibited
to them the round-pointed, screwed-in calks, commonly
known as "neverslips." He took the measurements
of the shoe and glanced at his note-book.

Finally, with a significant gesture and amidst dead
silence, he thrust the book back in his pocket. Handing
over the horse to Lee he bade him tie it up again.

Wordlessly, the trio exchanged mysUfied glances.
"See here; look, Nick!" Slavin grasped the livery-
man's fat shoulder and looked grimly into the startled,
rubicund face. "I'm a-goin' tu put a question tu yeh,'
an' 'member now. ... I want yeh tu think harrdl
. . . Now -whin Larry Blake came in tu saddle-up
an' pull out last night was that ther sorrel o' Windy's
still in th' stable — or not?"

"Eh?" gasped Lee at last, "I dunnol Me nor Lanky
wasn't around when Larry pulled out. We was over
t' th' hr/.tl Sariint."

Slavin released the man's shoulder with a testy,
balked gesture. "Yes! enjoyin' th' racket an' dhrunk
like th' rist, I guess! . . . 'Tis a foine sort av town-
constable yez are!"

Nick Lee maintained his air of injured innocence.
"I came round here 'bout midnight, anyways!" he pro-

136 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

tested. "I always do — jes' t' see '£ everythin's all
right. That hawss was in then, I will swear — 'cause I
'member his halter-shank'd come untied and I fixed it.
Ev'rythin' in th' garden was lovely 'cep' fur that
damned hobo sneakin' round. He was gettin'
a drink at th' trough an' I chased him. But he beat
it up inta th' loft an' — I'm that scared of fire," he
ended lamely, "I never lock up fur that."

Slavin nodded wisely. "Yesl I guess he made his
getaway from yu' — easy. Mighty long toime since
yuh've bin able tu dhrag yeh're guts up that ladder —
lit alone squeege thru' th' thrap-dhure. Bet Lanky
does all th' chorin'." He glanced around him impa-
tiently, "But this here's all talk — it don't lead no-
wheres. HuUol this is Gully's team, ain't it?" He
indicated a splendid pair of roans standing in a double
stall nearby.

"Yes!" said Lee, "he pulled in las' night t' catch
th' nine-thirty down t' Calgary. He ain't back yet."

"Fwas he — " Slavin checked himself abruptly —
"fwhat toime did he get in here?"

" 'Bout nine."

"Fwhat toime 'bout fwas ut whin this racket
shtarted up betune Windy an' Larry?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 137

"Oh, I dunno, Sarjint! — 'bout nine, may be — as
I say I — "

"Come onl" said the sergeant, abruptly, to his men,
"let's go an' eat. Luk afther thim harses good, Nick,''
he flung back in a kind tone.

Outside in the dark road they gathered together,
bandying mystified conjecture in low tones. « 'Tis
no use arguin', bhoys," snapped Slavin at last,
wearily, "we've got tu see Chuck Reed an' Bob In-
galls an' Brophy av th' hotel. Their wurrd goes —
they're straight men. If they had Windy corralled
all night, as Nick sez . . . fwhyl ... that let's
Windy out."

He was silent awhile, then: "That harse av
Windy's," he burst out with an oath, "I thought 't'was
a cinch. Somethin' passin' rum 'bout all this. There's
abs'lutely no mistake 'bout th' harse. Somebody in
this god-forsaken burg must ha' used him tu du th'
klllin' wid. Well, let's get on."

Suddenly, as they neared the hotel, a veritable bed-
lam of sound fell upon their ears, apparently from in-
side that hostelry -men shouting, a dog barking, and
above all the screeching, crazed voice of a drunken
man.

138 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

The startied policemen dashed into the front en-
trance, through the office and across the passage into
the bar beyond, from whence the uproar proceeded.
"Helpl Murder! Pleecel" some apparently high-
strung individual was bawling. A ludicrous, but never-
theless dangerous, sight met their eyes.

A moUey crowd, composed mainly of well-dressed
passengers from off the temporarily-stalled West,
bound train and a sprinkling of townsfolk, were
backed -hands up -into a corner of the bar by a
big, hard-faced man clad in range attire who was
menacing them with a long-barrelled revolver. He
was dark-haired and swarthy, with sinister, glittering
eyes. One red-headed, red-nosed individual had ap-
parently resented parting with the drink that he had
paid for; as in one decidedly-shaky elevated hand he
still clutched his glass, its whiskey and water con-
tents slopping down the neck of his nearest unfortu-
nate neighbour.
"Monl" he apologized, in tearful accents, "Ah juisf

canna help iti"
"Pitch upl" the "bad man" was shrieking, "Pitch

upl yu' si — That d d Blake! —that d d

Gullyl Stealin' my hawss away'f me an' gittin' me

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 139

fined! I'll git back at somebody fur this! Pkecel
yes! — yeh kin holler 'PUecef — Let me get th' drop

on th' red-coated, yeUuh-laigged sons of !

Ah-hh!" His eyes glittered with his insane pas-
sion, "Here they come! Now! watch th' s try

an' arrest me!"

Fairly frothing at the mouth, the man, at that mo-
ment working himself into a frenzy, was plainly as
dangerous as a mad dog. Drunk though he undoubt-
edly was, he did not stagger as he stepped to and fr
with cat-like activity, his gun levelled at the police-
men's heads. It was an ugly situation. Slavin and
his men taken utterly by surprise hesitated, as well
they might; for a single attempt to draw their side-
arms might easily bring inglorious death upon one
or another of them.

We have noted that on a previous occasion Redmond
demonstrated his ability to think and act quickly. He
upheld that rqjutation now. Like a flash he ducked
behind Slavin's broad shoulders and backed into the
passage. Picking up at random the first missile avail-
able—to wit — an empty soda-water bottle, he tip-
toed swiftly along the passage to a door opening into
the bar lower down. This practically brought him

f I

140 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

broadside-on to his man. A moment he peered and
judged his distance then, drawing back, his arm he
flung the bottle with all his force. At McGill he had
been a base-ball pitcher of some renown, so his aim
was true. The bottle caught its objective full in the
ear. With a scream of pain the man staggered for-
ward and clutched with one hand at his head, his
gun still in his grip sagging floorwards.

Instantly then, Yorke, who was the nearest, sprang
at him like a tiger and, flinging one arm around his
enemy'? bull neck, strove with the other to wrest the
gun from his grasp. It was a feat however, more
easily imagined than accomplished — to disarm a
powerful, active man. The tense fingers tightened
immediately upon the weapon and resisted to their
uttermost. Slavin and Redmond both had their side-
arms drawn now, but they were afraid to use them,
on Yorke's account. The combatants were whirling
giddily to and fro, the muzzle of the gun describing
every point of the compass.

Taking a risky chance, Slavin, watching his oppor-
tunity suddenly closed with the struggling men and,
raising his arm brought the barrel of his heavy Colt's
45 smashing down on the knuckles of the crazed man's

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 141

gun-hand. Instantaneously the latter's weapon
dropped to the floor.

Bang! The cocked hammer discharged one chamber
—the bullet ricocheting off the brass bar-raU deflected
through a cluster of glasses and bottles, smashing
them and a long saloon-mirror into a myriad splinters.
But few of the company there escaped the deadly fly.
ing glass, as badly-gashed faces immediately testified.
It all happened In quicker time than it takes to relate
" 'Crown' himl" gasped Yorke, still grimly hanging

onto his man, « 'Crown' the good and hard! "

Redmond sprang forward, grasping a small, shot-
loaded police "billy," but Slavin interposed a huge arm.
"Nay!" he said sharply, and with curious eagerness,
"Du not 'chrown' urn bhoy ! lave um tu me! " And he'
grasped one of the big, struggling man's wrists firmly
m a vise-like grip. "Leggo, Yorkey ! "

The latter obeyed with alacrity, and stooping he
picked up the fallen gun. He had an inkling of what
was coming.

"Ah-hh!" Slavin gloated gutterally, as he whirled his
victim giddily around and brought the man up facing
him with a violent jerk — "Windy Moran, avickl" —
softly and cruelly- "me wud-be cock av a wan-harse

I''

1 1'

i\ \'

142 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
dump 1— me wud-be 'bad-man' 1 ... Oh, yes! 'tis
both shockin' an' bnitil tu misthreat ye I know but
— surely, surely yeh desarve somethin' for all thisl"
And he drew back his formidable right arm.

Smack! The terrific impact of that one, terrible
open-handed slap nearly knocked his victim through
the bar-room wall. The head rocked sideways and the
big body turned completely round. Eyes rushing water
and one profile now resembling a slab of bloodied liver,
the man reeled about in a circle as if bereft of sight.

"Oh-hhl— Oohl— No-ol— Ah-hh!" The wild,
moaning cry for quarter came gaspingly out of puffed,
blood-foamed lips. But there was no mercy in Slavin.
He looked round at the wrecked bar, the glass-slashed
bleeding faces of his men and the rest of the saloon's
occupants. He thought upon many things — how near
ignoble death many of them had been but a few
minutes before — upon insult and threat flaunted at
them by a drunken, rufiBing braggadocio! — and he
jerked the latter to him once more.

But his two subordinates jumped forward and made
violent protest. "Steady!" It was Yorke now who
appealed for leniency — "Go easy, Burke! for God's
sake! You've handed him one good swipe — if he

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 143

get's another like that he'll be all in -won't be able
to talk. Let it go at thatl"

The sergeant remained silent, breathing thickly and
glaring at his prisoner with sinister, glittering eyes, and
sun retaining the latter's wrist in his iron grip But
eventually the force of Yorke's reasoning prevailed
with him. Drawing out his hand-cuffs he snapped them
on the man's wrists and haled him roughly out of the
bar into the hotel office. The crowd, recovering some-
what from their scare, would have followed, but he
curtly ordered them back and closed the door

"Brophy!" He beckoned the angry, frightened
hotel-proprietor forward. "Is Bob Ingalls and Chuck
Reed still in town?"

^ "Sure!" replied the latter, "They was both in here
'bout half an hour ago, anyways."

Slavin turned to Yorke. "Gc yu an' hunt up thim
fellers an' bring thim here!" he ordered.

"Ravin' — dean bug-house! that's what he isl"
wailed Brophy. "That bar 0' mine! oh. Lord! Yu'll
git it soaked to yii« this time. Windy, an' don't yu'
furgititl"

The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord's
revflings. Slumped down in a chair he had relapsed

144 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

into a sort of sulk> stupor, though he cringed visibly
whenever Slavin bent on him his thoughtful, sinister
gaze.

Presently Yorke returned, bringing with him two
respectable-looking men, apparently ranchers, from
their appearance.

Slavin nodded familiarly to them. "Ingalls!" he
addressed one of theni "I'm given tu undhershtand that
yuh an' Chuck Reed there tuk charge av this feller — "
he indicated the prisoner — "last night, whin he had
that racket wid Larry Blake in th' bar? Fwhat was
they rowin' over?"

"That hawss o' Blake's mostly," was Ingalls' laconic
answer. "Course they was slingin' everythin' else they
could dig down an' drag up, too." He chewed thought-
fully a moment, "We had some time with 'em," he
added.

"Shore did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur
Larry, so we told him to beat it home — which he did
— an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed with
him nigh all night."

Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can
vouch for this, tu, Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver
since th' throuble shtarted?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 145

Brophy nodded. "Yes! d n himl I wbh he had

got out before this bizness started. Yes! he's bin here
right along, Sarjint! why? — what's up?"

Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment.
Silently awhile he gazed at the three wondering faces.
"Now, I'll tell yez!" he said slowly. And briefly he
informed them of the murder — omitting all detail of
the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes
and broke out into startled exclamations. The pris-
oner struggled up from the chair, his bruised, ghastly
face registering fear and genuine astonishment. Red-
mc— 1 shoved him back again.

"If any feller thinks—" Moran relapsed into
maudlin, hysterical protestations of innocence, calling
upon the Deity to bear witness that he was innocent
and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to
his death.

Eventually silence fell upon all. Slavin cogitated
awhile, then he turned to Brophy. "Who else was
in, Billy? Out av town fellers I mean, fwhin this
racket occurred betune these tu? Thry an' think
nowl"

Brophy pondered long and presently reeled off a
few names. Slavin heard him out and shook his head

146 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
negatively. "Nothin' doin' there!" he announced
finally, "Mr. Gully was in, yuh say? Did he see any-
thin' av thi" row?"

"CudnV help it, I guess," replied Brophy. "He
just come inta th' office for his grip while it was a-
goln' on. He beat it out quick for th' East-bound as
had just come in. Said he was runnin' down to Cal-
gary. He ain't back yet. Guess he wudn't want to
go gettln' mixed up in anythin' like that, either —
him bein' a J. P."

Slavin looked at Yorke. "Let's have a luk at that
gun av Moran's!" he remarked. "Fwhat is ut?"

Yorke handed the weapon over. "'Smith and
Wesson' single-action," he said. "Just that one round
gone."

"Nothin doin' agin'," muttered Slavin disappoint-
edly. He broke the gun and, ejecting the shells put

all in his pocket. He then turned to Moran. "D 1

good job for yu' — havin' this alibi, Mister Windy!"
he growled, "don't seem anythin' on yu' over this
killin' — as yet! But yez are goin' tu get ut fwhere
th' bottle got th' cork for this otaer bizness, me man!"
And he proceeded to formally charge and warn his
prisoner.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 147
"Give us a room, Brophy!" he said, "a big wan for
th' bunch av us — an' lave a shake-down on th' flure
for this fuller 1"

Preceded by the landlord the trio departed up-
stairs, escorting their prisoner. Alone in the room
they discussed matters in lowered tones; Slavin and
Yorke not forgetting to compliment Redmond on his
presence of mind — or, as the sergeant put it: "Di-
vartin' his attenshun."

The big Irishman scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"I must go wire th' O.C. report av all this. Sind
Gully comes back on th' same thrain wld Inspector
Kilbride to-morrow. Thin we can go ahead — wid
two J. P.S tu handle things. Yuh take charge av Mr.
Man, Ridmond! Me an' Yorke will go an' eat now,
an' relieve yxih later."

CHAPTER VIII

"Tht Court ii prepared, the Laviyen are nut

The Judtes all ranged, a terrible show I"
As Captain Uacheath says, — and vihrn one's arraltned.

The sitht's as unpleasant a ,:>f -u / *iio«i.

THE INOOUSBY UGENDS.

ORRRDHER IN COORTl" rang out Ser-
geant Slavin's abrupt command. It was about
ten o'clock the following morning. The hotel
pMrloiir bad been hastily transformed into a temporary
court-room. A large square table had been drawn to
one end of the room and two easy chairs placed con-
veniently behind it. Fronting it was a long bench,
designed for the prisoner and escort. In the immediate
rear were arranged a few rows of chairs, to accommo-
date the witnesses and spectators.

The sergeant's order, prompted by the entrance of
the two Justices of the Peace, was the occasion of all
present rising to attention, in customary deference to
police-court rules. One of the newcomers, dressed in
the neat blue-serge uniform of an inspector of the
148

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 149
Force, was famUiar to Redmond as Inspector Kilbride,
who had been recently transferred to L Division from
a northern district. He had close-cropped gray hair
and a clipped, grizzled moustache. Though apparently
Bearing midHle-age he still po:.sessed the slim, wiry,
active figure of a man long inured to the saddle.

The appearance of his judicial confrere fairly startled
George. He was a huge fellow, fully as tall and as
heavy a man as Slavin, though not so compactly-built
or erect as the latter. Still, his wide, loosely-hung,
slightly bowed shoulders suggested vast strength, and
his leisurely though active movements indicated abso-
lute muscular control. But it was the strangely sombre,
mask-like face which excited Redmond's interest most.
Beneath the broad, prominent brow of a thinker a
pair of deep-set, shadowy dark eyes peered forth, with
the lifeless, unwinking stare of an owl. Between them
jutted a large, bony beak of a nose, with finely-cut
nostrils. The pitiless set of the powerful jaw was only
partially concealed by an enormous drooping mous-
tache, the latter reddish in colour and streaked with
gray, like his thinning, carefully brushed hair. His
age was hard to determine. Somewhere around forty-
five, George decided, as he regarded with covert in-

ISO THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

terest Ruthven Gully, Esq., gentleman-rancher and
Justice of the Peace for the district.

The two Justices took their places with magisterial
decorum, the witnesses seated themselves again, and,
all being ready, the sergeant opened the court with its
tiir>e-honoured formula.

The inspector glanced over the various "informa-
tions" and handed them over to his confrere for perusal.
A brief whispered colloquy ensued between them, and
then the local justice settled himself back in his chair,
chin in hand. Inspector Kilbride addressed the
prisoner who had remained standing between Yorke
and Redmond, and in a clear, passionless voice pro-
ceeded to read out the several charges.

"Do you wish to ask for a remand, Moran?" he
enquired, "to enable you to procure counsel?"

"No, sir!" Moran's sullen, insolent eyes suddenly
encountering a dangerous, steely glare from Kilbride's
gray orbs he wilted and immediately dropped his bel-
ligerent attitude. "No use me hirin' a mouthpiece,"
he added, "as I'm a-goin' t' plead guilty t' all them
charge' '

"Al:i The inspector thoughtfully conned over the
"informations" once more. "Sergeant Slavin," said he

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 151

presently, "what are the particulars of this man's
disorderly conduct?"

He listened awhile to the sergeant's evidence,
occasionally asking a question or two, but Mr. Gully
remained in the same silent, brooding, inscrutable atti-
tude which he had adopted at the commencement of the
proceedings. Though apparently listening keenly, his
shadowy eyes betrayed no interest whatever in the
case.

Of that face Yorke had once remarked to Slavin:
"That beggar's mug faiiy haunts me sometimes. . . .
He's a good fellow. Gully, — but you know — when
he gets that brooding look on his face . . . he's the
living personification of a western Eugene Aram."

And Slavin, engaged in shredding a pipeful of
tobacco had mumbled absently "So? — Ujin Airum!
— I du not mind th' ould shtiff — fwhat was his reg'-
minthal number?"

The sergeant finished his evidence; Kilbride swung
round to his fellow-justice once more and diey held a
whispered consultation, the latter making emphatic
gestures throughout the colloquy. This ending the
inspector turned to the prisoner.
"You have pleaded guilty to each of these charges.

IS2 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Have you anything to say? — any explanation to offer
for your reckless, disorderly conduct?"

The prisoner swallowed nervously and shuffled with
his feet. "Guess J was drunk," he said finally, "didn't
know what I was doin'."

The mspector's grey eyes glittered coldly. "So?"
he drawled ironically, "the sergeant's evidence is to the
contrary. It would appear that you were not so very
drunk. You were neither staggering nor incapable at
the tune. It was merely a rehearsal of a cheap bit of
dime novel sort of bar-room, rough-house black-
guardism that no doubt in various other places you
have got away with and emerged the swaggering hero.
Where do you come from? Whom are you working for
now?"

"Havre, Montana. I'm ridin' fur th' North-West
Cattle Company."

"Ah! well, let me tell you that sort of stuff doesn't
go over on this side, my man." He considered a
moment and picked up a Criminal Code. "In view
of your pleading guilty to these charges, and therefore
not wasting the time of this court unnecessarily, I
propose dealing with you in more lenient fashion than
you deserve. For being unlawfully in possession of

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 153
firearms you are fined twenty dollars and costs. For
'pointing fire-arms,' fifty dollars and costs. On the
charge of 'resisting the police in the execution of their
duty' you are sentenced to six months imprisonment
with hard labour in the Mounted Police Guard-room
at Calgary. You are also required to make restitution
for all damage cav id as the result of your fracas."

Moran squirmed and mumbled: "If I've got t' do
time on the one charge I might as well do it on th'
rest, an' save th' money fur t' pay fur th' damage."
"Very good!" agreed the inspector coldly. He bent
again to his confrere and they conferred awhile. Then
he turned to the prisoner. "Thirty days hard labour
then — on each of the first two charges — sentences
to run concurrently." He paused a space, resuming
sternly: "And let me tell you this, Moran: in view of
certain wild threats uttered by you in public you have
narrowly escaped being charged with the greatest of
all crimes. It is indeed a fortunate thing for you
that you have been able to produce a reliable alibi.
All right, Sergeant! you can close the court. Make
out that warrant of commitment and I and Mr. Gully
wiU sign it later. We're going over to see the coroner."
The two Justices arose and passed out, the few

IS4 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

witnesses and onlookers drifting aimlessly in their
wake. Elavin lowered himself ponderously into the
chair just vacated by the inspector, lit his pipe, and,
whistling softly, commenced to fill out a legal form.
Yorke and Redmond also took the opportunity to in-
dulge in a quiet smoke as they chatted together in
low tones. The former good-naturedly tossed a
cigarette over to the prisoner, with the remark: "Have
a smoke, Windy — it's the last you'll get for some
time."

Moran, slumped in a tipped-back chair, blew a whiff
of smoke from a lop-sided mouth. "Six months!"
chanted he lugubriously, "an' they call this a free
country! — free hell! —

"Ok, bury me out on tk' lone prair-te,
Wkere tk' wild ki-oot'tt kowl over me,—

— might as well an' ha' done with it!"

They all laughed unsympathetically. « 'Tis mighty
lucky for yuh thim sintences run concurrently instid
av consecutively," was the sergeant's rejoinder, "or
ut'd be eight months yez ud be doin' stid av six."

The front legs-sof Moran's chair suddenly hit the
floor with a crash. "Lookit here, bhoys," he said
earnestly, "that ther big mag'strate — him as you

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 155
call Gully — is that his real name? Wher does he
come from? What countryman is he?"

"English I" answered Yorke shortly. "Why? D'ye
think an Englishman has to run r.ound with a
blooming alias?"

"Well, now, yu' needn't go t' git huffy with a man!"
expostulated Moran, with an injured air. "Th'
reason I'm askin' yu' is this": He paused impres-
sively, with puckered, thoughtful eyes. "That same
man — if it ain't him — is th' dead spit of a man as

once hit County, in Montana 'bout ten years

back. Dep'ty Sheriff — I can't mind his name now.
It was a hell of a tough county that — then. Th'
devil himself 'ud ha' bin scairt t' start up in bizness
ther." He shook his head slowly. "But I tell yu' —
when Mr. Man let up with his fancy shootin' it was
th' peaceablest place in th' Union. Th' rough stuff'd
drifted — what was left above ground. He dragged
it too, later. I never heered wher he went."

"Ah!" remarked Slavin pityingly, knocking out his
pipe. "Th' few shots av hootch ye had tu throw inta
yu' last night tu get ye're Dutch up must be makin'
ye see double, me man. If th' rough stuff he run
inta there was on'y th' loikes av yeisii." he must have

,1 ■■ t

156 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

shtuck a soft snap." He arose. "Put th' stringers on
him agin, Ridmond, an' take um upstairs an' lock um
up! Yu'll be escort wid um tu Calgary whin th' East-
bound comes in — an' see here, look I ... I want
ye tu be back here agin as soon as iver ye can make
ut back. Tchkk!" he clucked fretfully, "I wish this
autopsy an' inquest was thru', so's we cud git down
tu bizness. Phew! thij dive's stuffy — let's beat ut
out a bit!"

Standing on the sidewalk they gazed casually at
the slowly approaching figures of Inspector Kilbride
and Mr. Gully. The two latter appeared to be en-
gaged in a vehement, though guarded conversation —
stopping every now and again, as if to debate a point.
"Here cometh Moran's 'dep'ty sheriff,' " was Yorke's
facetious comment.

"By gum, though!" Redmond ejaculated, "the
beggar would make a good stage marshal, wouldn't
he ? ... with that Bret Harte, forty-niner's mous-
tache and undertaker's mug, and top-boots and all,
what?"

"And a glittering star badge," supplemented Yorke
dramatically, "don't forget that! and two murderous-
looking guns slanted across his hips and—"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 157
"Arrah, thin! shut up, Yorkey!" hissed the sergeant
in a warning aside, "they'll hear yez. Here they
come."

Presently the five were grouped together. In-
spector Kilbride's stern features were set in a thought-
ful, lowering scowl. Mr. Gully's tanned, leathery coun-
tenance looked curiously mottled.

"Sergeant!" The inspector clicked off his words
sharply. "This is a bad case. We've just been view-
ing the body — Mr. Gully and I." With mechanical
caution he glanced swiftly round. "Let's get inside
and go over things again," he added.

Seated in the privacy of the hotel parlour the crime
was discussed from every angle with callous, profes-
sional interest. Kilbride and Slavin did most of the
talking, though occasionally Gully interpolated with
question and comment. He possessed a deep, booming
bass voice well-suited to his vast frame. His speech,
despite a slightly languid drawl, was unquestionably
that of an educated Englishman. Yorke and Redmond
maintained a respectful silence in the presence of their
officer, except to answer promptly and quietly any
questions put directly to them.

Personal revenge they decided eventually could be

iS8 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
the only motive. Robbery was out of the question, as
the personal belongings of the dead man had been
found to be intact, including a valuable diamond ring,
about a hundred and fifty dollars in bills, and his
watch, papers, etc. A jovial, light-hearted young
rancher, hailing originally from the Old Country, a
bachelor of more or less convivial habits, he had en-
joyed the hearty good-will of the country-side, in-
curring the enmity of no one, with the exception of
Moran, as far as they knew. The latter's alibi having
established his innocence beyond doubt, no definite
clues were forthcoming as yet, beyond the foot-prints,
the horse, and the "Luger" shell. Moran," too, they
ascertained had ridden in alone, and was not in the
habit of chumming with anyone in particular. Slavin
had prepared a list of all known out-going and in-
coming individuals on and about the date of the crime.
This was carefully conned over. All were, without
exception, well-known respectable ranchers, and citi-
zens of Cow Run, to whom no suspicion could be
attached.

"No I" commented the inspector wearily, at length.
"In my opmion thb has been done by someone living
right here in this burg — a man whom we could go and

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 159
put our hands on this very minute — if we only had
something to work on. You'll see . . . it'll turn
out to be that later. Just about the last man you'd
suspect, either. Cases like this — where the individual
has nerve enough to stay right on the job and go about
his business as usual — are often the hardest nuts to
crack. You remember that Huggard case, Sergeant?"
Many years previous he and Slavin had been non-
coms together in the Yukon, and other divisions of
the Force, and now, delving back into their memories
of crime and criminals, they cited many old and grim
cases, more or less similar to the one in hand. Yorke
and Redmond listened eagerly to theu- narration, but
GuDy betrayed only a sort of taciturn interest. If
he had any experiences of his own, he apparently did
not consider it worth while to contribute them just
then; though to Slavin and Yorke he was known to
be a man who had travelled far and wide.

"Ah!" remarked the inspector, a trifle bitterly. "If
only some of these smart individuals who write fool
detective stories, with their utterly impracticable
methods, theories, and deductions, were to climb out
of tiieir arm-chairs and tackle the real thing — had to
do it for their living — they'd Mak* a pretty ghasUy

i6o THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
mess of things I'm thinking. It all looks so mighty
easy — in a book. You can see exactly how the thing
happened, put your hand on the man who did it, and
all that, right from the start. And you begin to
wonder, pityingly, why the police were such fools as
not to have seen through everything right away."

He paused a moment, continuing: "This is a law-
abiding country. Crimes like this are exceptional.
We're bound to get to the bottom of this sooner or
later. When we do — there'll be quite a lot of things
crop up in oiu- minds that we'll be wondering we never
thought of before. Let me have another look at that
paper imprint of that over-shoe, Sergeantl"

Silently, Slavin handed it over. Kilbride scruti-
nized it carefully, and again went over all notes and
figures connected with the crime. "Must have been a
tall man — possibly six feet, or over, from the length
of the stride," he muttered, "and heavy, from the
depth of the imprint." He noted the distance from the
big boulder to where the body had first fallen. "Gadl
what shooting! . . . The man must have been a holy
fright with a revolver — to have confidence in himself
to be able to kill at that range. I've never known any-
thing like it. Weill . . . Onesure thing" — he laughed

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED i6i

grimly -"you can't go searching every decent
ciuzen here for a Luger gun, or demanding to measure
his feet -without reasonable suspicion. Why! It
might be you, Sergeant — or Mr. Gully, here . .
you're both big men. ..."

Long afterwards, well they remembered the inspec-
tor's random jest - how Gully, with one hand slid into
his breast, and the other dragging at his great drooping
moustache (mannerisms of his) had joined in the gen-
eral laugh with his hollow, guttural "Hal ha I"

The inspector's levity suddenly vanished. "That
old fool of a livery-stable keeper, Lee, or whatever his
name is ... if only he, or someone had been around

when the horse was brought back that night! D n

it! there must have been somebody around, surely.
That's what this case hinges on."

He looked at his watch. "Well! Work on that —
to your utmost. Sergeant. Stay right with it until you
get that evidence. You'll drop onto your man sooner or
later, I know. That train should be in soon, now. I'll
have to get back. The Commissioner's due from
Regina, sometime today, and I've got to be on hand.
Wire the finding of the inquest as soon as it's over,
and send in a full crime-report of everything! »

m
m

1 62 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

He glanced casually at the bruised faces of Yorke
and Redmond. "You men must have had quite a tussle
with that fellow, Moran!" he remarked whimsically.
"You seem to have come off the best, Sergeant. You're
not marked at all."

"Some tussle all right, Sorrl" agreed that worthy
evenly, his tongue in his cheek. "Yu' go git yu're
prisoner, Ridmond, an' be ready whin that thrain
comer in. Come back on the next way-freight west,
if there's wan behfure th' passenger. We'll need yez."

Gully murmured some hospitable suggestion to
Kilbride, and the two gentlemen strolled into the
wrecked bar. The train presently arrived and de-
parted eastwards, bearing on it the inspector, Red-
mond, and his prisoner.

"Strange thing," the officer had remarked musingly
to Slavin, just prior to his departure, "I seem to know
that man Gully's face, but somehow I can't place him.
He introduced himself to me on the train coming up.
Of course I'm familiar with his name, as the J.P. here,
but I can't recall ever meeting him before."

Sometime later, Slavin and Yorke, who had just
returned from the gruesome autopsy and were busily
making arrangements for the afternoon's inquest.

; ! ■.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED ,63

street. They .mmediately stepped outside the u.cel
to see what was the matter.

Advancing towards them, and puffing with exertion
and .mportance they beheld Nick Le.. haling a „"

VT u"'"^ "" """•'"P* '"*-'^'"' vvhom they
judged to be the hobo who had di.urbed his peace S
™nd A small retinue of dirty urchins, j>.-;n,^, " °
and barking dogs brought up the rear 'i^^^
"Dogberry" drew nigh with his victi:„ an., i,^Z
empurpled as probably the elder Welle, was after
duckmg Mr. Stiggins in the horse-trough
tbTrT.^T*"^ triumphantly "I did dim up

T Zl . '"^ *'* ^*'"*'''" Suddenly his jaw
dn^pped, and he wilted like a pricked bladden "wJyT
^at s up? he queried with a crestfallen air, as he be-
held Slavm's angry, worried countenance

"Damnation!" muttered the latter softly and
^vagely to Yorke. "This means another thrip ,
Calgary-wid this 'bo'-an' me not able tu shpa
ye just now. Fwhat wid all this other bizness^-d

Sl"^"^r""- ^'-''^vaggedhimlne
Ridmond might have taken th' tu av thim down tu-

164 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

gither. Da ." The oath died on his lips and he

remained staring at the hobo as a sudden thought struck
him. His gaze flickered to Yorke's face, and his subor-
dinate nodded comprehensively.

Slavin beckoned to Lee. "Take um inside the hotel
parlour, Nick," he ordered, "fwhere we hild coort this
momin.' Yorkey, yu' go an' hunt up Mr. Gully. I
don't think he's pulled out yet, has he, Nick?" He
spoke now with a certain grim eagerness.

The livery-man made a gesture in the negative, and
Yorke departed upon his quest. Slavin ushered Lee
and the hobo into the room. To the sergeant's surprise
he beheld the justice sitting at the table writing. He
concluded that that gentlman must have just i-pped in
from the rear entrance of the hotel, or the bar, during
his own and Yorke's temporary absence.

At the entrance of the trio Gully raised his head and,
with the pen poised in his fingers, sat perfectly motion-
less, staring at them strangely out of his shadowy eyes.
His face seemed transformed into a blank, expression-
less mask. The sergeant leaned over the table and
spoke to him in a rapid aside.

"Ah!" murmured Mr. Gully, and he remained for
a space in deep thought. "Sergeant," he began pres-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 165
cntly, "I'll have to be pulling out soon. Before we
start in with this man . . . will you kindly step
down to Doctor Cox's with these papers and ask him
to sign them?"

It seemed an ordinary request. Slavin complied.
Returning some ten or fifteen minutes later he noticed
Lee was absent. The magistrate answered his query.
"Sent him round to throw the harness on my team,"
he drawled, as he pored over a Criminal Code, "he'll
be back in a moment — ah! here he is." And just
then the latter entered, along with Yorke. The hobo
was sitting slumped in a chair, as Slavin had left him.
With one accord they all centred their gaze upon the
unkempt delinquent. Ragged and unwashed, he pre-
sented a decidedly unlovely appearance, which was
heightened by his stubble-coated visage showing signs
as of recent ill-usage. His age might have been any-
thing between thirty and forty.

The sergeant, a huge, menacing figure of a man,
stepped forvard and motioned to him to stand.
"Now, see here; look, me manl" he said slowly and
distinctly, a sort of tense eagerness underlying his
soft tones, "behfure I shtart in charrgin' ye wid any-
thin' I'm goin' tu put a few questions tu ye in front

1.3

i66 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

av this ginthleman" — he indicated the justice —
"He's a mag'strate, so ye'd best tell th' trute. Now —
th' night behfure last — betune say, nine an' twelve
o'clock . . . f where was ye?" — he paused —
"Think harrd, an' come across wid th' straight goods."

A tense silence succeeded. The hobo, the cynosure
of a ring of watchful expectant faces, mumbled indis-
tinctly, "I was sleepin' — up in th' loft o' th' livery-
staWe."

"Did yeh — " Slavin eyed thp man fceenly — "did
ytb see — or hear — any fella take a harse out av
th' shtable durin' that time?"

Gully moved slightly. With the mannerism he af-
fected, his left hand dragging at his moustache and
his right slid between the lapels of his coat, he leaned
forward and fixed his eyes full upon the hobo's bat-
tered visage.

Meeting that strange, compelling gaze the latter
stared back at him, his face an ugly, expressionless
mask. He shuffled with his feet. "Why, yes!" he
said finally, "I did heer a bunch o' fellers come m.
They was a-talkin' all excited-like 'bout a fight, or
sumphin'. They was a-hoUerin', 'Beat it, Larry! beat
it!' t' somewun, an' I heered some feller say: 'AH

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 167

rightl give us my saddle!' an' then it sounded

like as if a horse was bein' taken out. I didn't heer
no more after that -went t' sleep. I 'member
comin' down 'bout th' middle o' th' night t' git a drink
at th' trough. This feller come in then," -he indi-
cated Lee. "He hollered sumphin' an' started in t'
chase me . . . so I beat it up inta Ji' loft agin' "
He shivered. '"T'was cold up tker-I wdl-nigh
froze," he whined.

The sergeant exhausted his no mean powers of ex-
hortation. It was all in vain. The hobo protested
that he had neither seen nor heard anyone else taking
out, or bringing in, a horse during the night.

Slavln finally ceased his efforts and glowered at the
man in silent impotence. "How come yez tu ^i. th'
face av yez bashed up so?" he demanded.

"Fell thru' one o' th' feed-holes up in th' loft," was
the sulky response.

"Fwhat name du ye thravel undher?"

"Dick Drinkwater."

"Eh?" the sergeant glanced critically at the red,
bulbous nose. "Fwhat's in a name?" he mumared.'
"Eyah! fwhat's in a name?"
Glibly the tramp commenced an impassioned

1 68 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

harangue, dwelling upon the hardness of life in gen-
eral, snuffling and whining after the manner of his
kind. How could a cri^ied-up man like him obtain
work? He thrust out a grimy right hand — minus
two fingers. He had been a sawyer, he averred.

Slavin sniffed suspiciously. "Ye shtink av whiskey,
fella!" he said sharply. "That nose, yeh name, an'
a hard-luck spiel du not go well together. F where did
)m' get yu're dhrink?"

The hobo was silent. "Come across," said Slavin
sternly, "fwhere did ye get ut?"

"I had a bottle with me when I come off th' train,"
said the other, "ther was a drop left in an' I had it
just now."

In the li^t of after events, well did Slavin and
Yorke recall the furtive appealing glance the hobo
threw at Gully; well did they also remember certain
of Kilbride's words: "There'll be quite a lot of things
crop up in our minds that we'll be wondering we
never thought of before."

The justice cleared his throat. "Sergeant" came
his guttural, booming bass, "suppose! — suppose!" he
reiterated suavely "on this occasion we — er — temper
justice with mercy — ha! ha!" His de^ hdlow laugh

mwF'wrTivms^i

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 169
jarred oi| their nerves most unpleasantly. "I need a
man at my place just now," be went on, "to buck
wood and do a little odd choring around. Times are
rather hard just now, as this poor fellow says. If you
insist — er — why, of course I've no other option but
to send him down ... you understand? I v»ould
not presume to dictate t you your duty On the
other hand ... if you are not specially aaxious to
press a charge of vagrancy ag-^inst this man I — cr-
am willing to give him a chance to obtain this work —
that he insists he is so anxious to find."

Slavin's face cleared and he emitted a weary ^^
of relief. "As you wiD. yeh're Worship." he said.
"T'willbe helpin' me out, tu . . . yeh undhersiitand-'"
His meaning stare drew a compreiiensive nod fran
Gully. "I have not a man tu shpare for escort just

He turned to the hobo. "Fwhat say yu'. me man?"
was his curt ultimatum, "Fwhat say yu' — tu th' kind-
niss av his Worship? Will yeh go wurrk for him? . .
Or be charged wid vagrancy?"

The offer was accepted with alacrity. In the hobo's
one uninjured optic shone a momentary gleam of in-
telligence, as he continued to stare at Gully, like a dog

170 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

at its master. The gleam was reflected in a pair of
shadowy, deep-set eyes, unblinking as an owl'S

Gully arose and looked at Lee. "All right then! you
can hitch up my team, Nick!" he said, and that rotund
worthy waddled away on his mission. "Come on, my
man" he continued to the hobo, "we'll go round to the
stable." He turned to Slavin and Yorke, shedding his
magisterial deportment. "Well, good-bye, you
fellows I " he said, with careless bonhomie. He lowered
his voice in an aside to Slavin. "Sergeant, I trust I
shall see, or hear from you again shortly. I would
like to hear the result of the inquest and — er — how
you are progressing with the case."

A few minutes later they heard the silvery jingle of
his cutter's bells gradually dying away in the distance.
Slavin aroused himself from a scowling, brooding

reverie. "G d d n!" he spat out to Yorke, from

between clenched teeth, "ther' goes another forlorn
hope. 'Tis no manner av use worryin' tho' — let's go
get that jury empannelled ! " He uttered a snorting
chuckle as a thought seemed to strike him. "H-mm!
Gully must be getthin' tindher-hearthed ! Th' last
▼ag we had up behfure him he sint um down for sixty
days."

CHAPTER IX

Tmke order how, Cehati,

That no man talk aside
In secret uiith his judges

The wkie his case is tried,
lest he should show them — reason

To keef a matter hid,
And subtly lead the questions

Away from what he did.

KIPUHO.

HULLOl" quoth Constable Yorke facetiously,
"behold one cometh, with blood in his eyel'
Egad I Don't old gal Lee look mad? Like a
wet hen. I guess she's just off the train and Nick
hasn't met her. There'll be something doing when she
lands home."

It was about ten o'clock on the following morning
The three policemen (Redmond had returned on a
freight during the night) were standing outside the
small cottage, next the livery-stable, the abode of Nick
Lee and his spouse. After a casual inspection of their
horses they were debating as to possible suspects and
their next course of action. Yorke's remarks were

%:^

172 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

directed at a stout, red-faced, middle-aged woman who
was just then approaching tbem. She looked flustered
and angry and was burdened down with parceb great
and small. As she baited outside the gate one <>f ibe
packages slipped from her grasp and fell in the mud.
Unable to bend dov> she gazed at it helplessly a
moment. Yorke, s'.-; ping forward pronsjHiy, picked
up the p>arcel, wipeil it and tricked it under her huge
arm.

""Hiank ye, Mister Yorke," she ejaculated gratefully,
" 'tis a gentleman ye are," she glowered a moment at
the cottage, "which is more'n I kin say fur that mon
o' mine, th' lazy good-fur-nothin', . . . leavin' me t'
pack all these things from th' train!"

Like a tug drawing nigh to its mooring — and nearly
as broad in the beam — she came to anchor on the
front steps and kicked savagely at the door. A momen-
tary glimpse they got of Nick Lee's face, in all its
ruWcund helplessness, and then the door banged to.
From an open window soon emerged the sounds as
of a domestic broil.

"Talk av Home Rule, an' 'Th' Voice that breathed
o'er Eden'," murmured Slavin. "Blarney me sowll
just hark tu ut now?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 173
From the cottage's interior came several high-pitched
female squawks, punctuated by the ominous sounds as
of violent thumps being rained upon a soft body and
suddenly the portal disgorged Lee -in erratic haste.
His hat presenUy followed. Dazedly awhile he sur-
veyed the grinning trio of witnesses to his discomfiture-
then, picking up his battered head-piece he crammed
It down upon h-s bald cranium with a vicious, yet
abject, gesture.

"Th' missis seems onwell this mornin'," he mumbled
apologetically to Slavin, "I take it yore not a married
man, Sarjint?"

"Eh?" ejaculated that worthy sharply, his levity
gone on the instant. "Who — me?" Blankly he re-
garded the miserable face of his interlocutor, one huge
paw of a hand softly and surreptitiously caressing its
fellow, "Nay — glory be ! I am not."

"Har!" shrilled the Voice, its owner, fat red arms
akimbo, blocking up the doorway, "Nick, me useless
man! ye kin prate t' me 'bout arrestin' hoboes. I tell
ye right now — that hobo that was a-bummin' roun'
here t'other mornin's got nothin' on you fur sheer,
blowed-in-th'-glass laziness."
"Fwhat?" Slavin violently contorUng his grim face

174 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

into a horrible semblance of persuasive gallantry edged
cautiously towards the irate dame — much the same
as a rough-rider will "So, ho, now I" and sidle up to
a bad horse. "Mishtress Lee," began he, in wheedling,
dulcet tones, "fwhat mornin' was that?"

That lady, her capacious, matronly bosom heaving
with emotion, eyed him suspiciously a moment. "Eh?"
she snapped. "Why th' mornin' after th' night of
racket between them two men at th' hotel. Th' feller
come bummin' roun' th' back-door fur a hand-out — all
starved t' death — just before I took th' train t' Cal-
gary." She dabbed at the false-front of red hair, which
had become somewhat disarranged. "La, la!" she
murmured, "I'm all of a twitterl"

"Some hand-out tu," remarked Slavin politely, "from
th' face av um. . . . Fwhat was ut ye handed him,
Mishtress Lee, might I ask? — th' flat-iron or th'
roUin' pin?"

"I did not! " the dame retorted indignantly. "I gave
him a cup of coffee an' sumphin' t' eat — he was that
cold, poor feller — an' I arst him how his face come t'
be in such a state. He s<»Id sumphin 'bout it bein' so
cold up in th' loft he oome down amongst th' horses
'bout midnight — t' get warmed up. He said he was

If' I i

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 175

Iyin> in one o' th' mangers asleep when a feller brought
a horse in -an' th' light woke him up an' when he
went t' climm outa th' manger th' horse got scared an'
pulled back an' musta stepped on this feller's foot-
fur th' feller started swearin' at him an' pulled him
outa th' manger an' beat him up an' — »

But Slavin had heard enough. With a most un-
gallant ejaculation he swung on his heel and started
towards the stable, beckoning hastily Yorke and
Redmond to follow.

"Yu hear that?" he burst out on them, with lowered
savage tones. "I knew ut - 1 felt ut at th' toime -
that shtinkin' rapparee av a hobo was lyin' - whin he
said he did not remimber a harse bein' brought back
We must go get um-right-away!" His grim face
wore a terribly ruthless expression just then. "My
God I" he groaned out from between clenched teeth
"but I will put th' third degree tu urn, an' make um'
come across this toimel Saddle up, bhoysl while I go
an' hitch up T an' B. Damnation! I wish Gully's place
was on the phone!"

Some quarter of an hour later they were proceeding
rapidly towards GuDy's ranch which lay some fifteen
miles west of Cow Run, on the lower or river trail.

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176 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

A cold wind had sprung up and the weather had turned
cloudy and dull, as if presaging snow, two iridescent
"sun-dogs" indicating a forthcoming drop in the tem-
perature.

Yorke and Redmond, riding in the cutter's wake,
carried on a desultory, jerky conversation anent the
many baffling aspects of the case in hand. Gully's
name came up. His strange personality was discussed
by them from every angle; impartially by Yorke —
frankly antagonistically by Redmond.

"Yes! he is a rum beggar, in a way," admitted Yorke,
"not a bad sort of duck, though, when you get to know
him — when he's not in one of his rotten, brooding
fits. He sure gets 'Charley-on-his-back' sometimes.
Used to hit the booze pretty hard one time, they say.
Tried the 'gold-cure' — then broke out again" — he
lowered his voice at the huge, bear-like back of the
sergeant — "all same him. I don't know — somehow
— it always seems to leave em' cranky an' queer —
that. Neither of 'em married either — 'baching it,'
living alone, year after year, and all that, too."

"Better for you — if you took the cure, too! " George
flung at him grinning rudely. He neck-reined Fox
sharply and dodged a playful punch from his comrade.

THE I.UCK OF THE MOUNTED 177

"Yorkey, old cock, I'm goin' to break you from 'hard
stuff' to beer — if I have to pitch into you every
day."

"You're an insultin', bullyin' young beggar," re-
marked Yorke ruefully. "I'll have to 'take shteps," as
Burke says, and discipline you a bit, young fellow-me-
lad! I don't wonder the old man pulled you in from
Gleichen. Come to think of it, why, you're the bright
boy that they say well-nigh started a muUny down
Regina! We heard a rumour about it up here. Say,
what was that mix-up, Reddy?"

George chuckled vaingloriously. "All over old
'Laddie'," he said. " 'Member that white horse? I for-
get his regimental number, but he was about twenty-five
years old. You remember how they'd taught him to
chuck up his head and 'laugh'? I was grooming him
at 'midday stables.' Old Harry Hawker was the ser-
geant taking 'stables' that day. He was stalking up
and down the gangway, blind as a bat, with his crop
under his arm, and his glasses stuck on the end of his
nose — peering, peering. Well, old Laddie happened
to stretch himself, as a horse will, you know, stuck
out his hind leg, and old Harry fell wallop over it
and tore his riding-pants, and just then I said 'Laugh,

178 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
Laddiel- and he chucked his old head up and wrinkled
his lips back. Of course the fellows fairly howled
and Harry lost his temper and let in to poor old
Laddie with his crop. It made me mad when he
started that and I guess I gave him some lip about
it. He 'pegged' me for Orderly-room right-away for
'insubordination.'

"I pleaded 'not guilty' and got away with it, too.
Got all kinds of witnesses - most of 'em only too

d d glad to be able to get back at Harry for litUe

things. Laddie was a proper pet of the Commis-
sioner's. He used to go into No. Four Stable and
play with the old beggar and feed him sugar nearly
every day."

Yorke laughed mischievously, and was silent
awhile. "Gully's knocked about a deuce of a lot," he
resumed presently. "Now and again hell open up a
bit and talk, hut mostly he's as close as an oyster —
and the way he can drop that drawl and come out
'flat-footed' with the straight turkey -why, it'd sur-
prise you! You'd think he was an out and out West-
erner, born and bred. He's a mighty good man on a
horse, and around cattle — and with a lariat. I don't
know where the beggar's picked it up. He claims

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 179
he's only been in this country live years, lallts mostly
about the Gold Coast, wd Shanghai, and the Congo.
A proper 'Bully Hayes' of a man he was there, too,
I'll betl He never says much about the States, though
I did hear him talking to a Southerner once, and
begad, it was funny! You could hardly teU their
accents apart.

"Oh, he's not a bad chap to have for a J.P. It's
mighty hard to get any local man to accept a J.P.'s
commission, anyway. They're most of 'em scared of
it getting them in bad with their neighbours. GuUy —

he doesn't care a d n for any of 'em, though. He'll

sit on any case. It's a good thing to have a man
who's absolutely independent, like that. I sure have
known some spineless rotters. No, we might have a
worse J.P. than Gullj

"Oh, I don't know," rejoined Redmond thought-
fully, "mny be he's all right, but, somehow ... the
man's a kind of 'Doctor Fell' to me — has been —
right from the first time I 'mugged' him. Chances are
though, that it's only one of those false impressions
a fellow gets. What's up?"

Yorke, shading his eyes from the cutting wind was
staring ahead down the long vista of trail. "Talk of

i( 1 5

180 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

the Devill" he muttered, "why! here the comes'"

Aloud, he caUed out to Slavin. "Oh, Burke! here
comes Gully -riding like hell. I know that Silver
horse of his."

And, far-off as yet, but rapidly approaching them
at a gallop, they beh«'.H a rider.

"Sure is hittin' th' Jgh spots," remarked the ser-
geant wonderingly, "fwhat th' divil's up now?"

Gradually the distance lessened between them and
presently Gully, mounted upon a splendid, powerfully,
built gray, checked his furious pace and reined in
with an impatient jerk, a few lengths from the police
team. Redmond could not help noticing that Gully
for a heavy man, possessed a singularly-perfect seat
in the saddle, riding with the sure, free, unconscious
grace of an habitue of the range. He was roughly
dressed now, in overalls, short sheepskin coat, and
"chaps."

He shouted a salutation to the trio, his usually
mimobile face transformed into an expression of scowl-
mg anxiety. "Hullo!" he boomed, his guttural bass
soundmg hoarse with passion, "You fellows didn't

meet that d d hobo on the trail, I suppose?

I'm looking for him — in the worst way!"

il!

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED x8i

He flung out of saddle and strode alongside the
cutter. "About two hours ago - not more, I'll swear
- 1 pulled out to take a ride around the catUe _ like
I usually do, every day. I left the beggar busy
enough, bucking fire-wood. I wasn't away much over
an hour, but when I got back I found he'd drifted -
couldn't locate him anywhere.

"Then I remembered I'd left some money lying
around -inside the drawer of a bureau in my bed
room-'bout a hundred, I guess-in one of these
black-leather bill-folders. Sure enough, it's gone, too.
Damnation!"

He leaned up against the cutter and mopped his
streammg forehead. "I was a fool to ever attempt
to help a man like that out," he concluded bitterly
It serves me right!"

"WeU." said Slavin, with an oath, "th' shtiff cannot
have got far-away in that toime. I want um as bad
as yuh, Mr. Gully. We were on th' way tu yu're
place forum. See here; luk!"

Gully heard him out and whistled softly at the con-
clu= , of the narrative. "Once collar this man. Ser-
geant,- said he, "and -you've practically got your
case. Make him talkP" - the low, guttural laugh was

182 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

not good to hear — "Oh, yesl . . . I think between us

we could accomplish that all right! . . . Yes-sl"

His voice died away in a murmur, a cruel glint
flickered in his shadowy eyes, and for a space he re-
mained with folded arms and his head sunk in a so.t
of brooding reverie. Suddenly, with an effort, he
seemed to arouse himself. "Oh, about that inquest.
Sergeant," he queried casually, "what was the jury's
finding? I was forgetting all about that."

"Eyah; on'y fwhat yuh might expect," replied the
latter. "Death by shootin', at th' hand av some person
unknown. I wired headquarthers right-away." He
made a slightly impatient movement. "Well, we must
get busy, Mr. Gully; this shtiff connot be far away.
Not bein' on th' thrail, betune us an' yu', means he's
either beat ut shtraight south from yu're place an' over
th' ice tu th' railway-thrack, or west a piece, an' thin
onto th' thrack. Yu'II niver find a hobo far away from
th' ice tu th' railway-thrack, or west a piece, an' thin
high ground beyant. Yuh cud shpot him plain for
miles — doin' that — comin' along."

"He's wearing old, worn-out boots," said Yorke,
"got awful big feet, too, I remember. Of course this
trail's too beaten up from end to end to be able to get

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 183

a line on foot-prints. We might worlt slowly back to
your place, though, Mr. Gully, and keep a lookout for
any place where he may have struck south off the trail,
as the Sergeant says."

It seemed the only thing to do. The party moved
leisurely forward, Gully riding ahead of the cutter,
Yorke and Redmond in its wake, as before, well-spread
out on either side of the well-worn trail. Here, the
snow was practically undisturbed, affording them every
opportunity of discovering fresh foot-prints debouching
from the main trail. It was rather exacting, monoto-
nous work, necessitating cautious and leisurely prog-
ress; but they stuck to it doggedly until sometime
later they rounded a bend in the river and came within
sight of Gully's ranch, about a mile distant.

Presently that gentleman pulled up and swung out
of saddle. "Half a minute," he said, "my saddle's
Slipping! I want to tighten my cinch."

The small cavalcade halted. Slavin's restless eyes
roving over the expanse of unbroken snow on his left
hand, suddenly dilated, and he uttered an eager ex-
clamation, pointing downwards with outflung arm.

"Ah," said he grimly, "here we are, I'm thinkin'!"
And he clambered hastily out of the cutter.

i84 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Yorke and Redmond, dismounting swiftly, stepped
forward with him and examined minutely the unmis-
takably fresh imprints of large-sized feet angling oif
from the trail towards the bank of the frozen river.

"Hob-nailed boots!" ejaculated Yorke. "Guess that
must be him, all right, B?r. Gully?"

The latter bent and scrutinized the imprints. "Sure
must be," he rejoined, with conviction. "A man walk-
ing out on the ranj, is a curiosity. I can't think how
I could have missed them — coming along. But I
guess I was so mad, and in such a devil of i hurry I
didn't notice much. [ made sure of catching up tohim
somewhere on the trail."

Slavin beckoned to Redmond and, much to that
young gentleman's chagrin, bade him hold the lines
of the restlebi team, while he (Slavin), along with
Yorke and Gully, started forwards trailing the foot-
prints. Arriving at the river's edge they slid down the
bank and followed the tracks over the snow-covered
ice to the centre of the river. Here was open water
for some distance, the powerful current at this point
keeping open a ten-foot wide steaming fissure. The
tracks hugged its edge to a point about four hundred
yards westward, where the fissure closed up again and

ifif i

■i'iFls '

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 185
enabled them to cross to Uie opposite bank. Clamber-
ing up this their quest --d then across a long stretch
of comparatively lev-;! ground to the fenced-in rail-
way-track.

Ducking under the lower strand of wiie they reached
the line. At the foot of the graded road-bed, Slavin,
who was ahead, halted suddenly and uttered an oath.
Stooping down he picked up something and, turning
round to his companions exhibited his find. It was a
smal', black-leather bill-folder — empty.

Gully regarded his lost property with smouldering
eyes, and he uttered a ghastly imprecation. "Yes,
that's it," he said simply, "beggar's boned the bills and
chucked this away for fear of incriminating evidence
— in car" he was nabbed rgain, I suppose. The bills

were mostly in fives and tens — Standard Bank I

remember."

They climbed up onto the track to determine whether
the foot-prints turned east or west; but further qutst
here proved useless, on account . f its being a snow-
beaten section-hand trail.

Slavin balked aga'n, swore in fluent and horrible
fashion. For a space he remained in brooding thought,
then he turned abruptly to his companions.

186 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

'•Come on," he jerked out savagely, "let's get back."
In silence they retraced their steps and eventually
reached their horses. Here the sergeant issued curt
orders to his oien.

"Tis onlikely th' shtiff can have got very far
away — in th' toime Mr. Gully tells us," he said, "an'
he cannot shtay out in th' opin for long this weather.
Get yu're harses over th' ice, bhoys, an' make th'
thrack. Ye'll find an' openin' in th' fence somewheres.
Thin shplit, an' hug th' line — west, yu', Yorkey — as
far as Coahnorc — yu', RidmoncJ — back tu Cow Run.
Yez know fwhat tu du. Pass up nothin' — culverts,
bridges, section-huts — anywhere's th' shtiff may be
hidin'. If yez du not dhrop onto um betune thim tu
places — shtay fwhere yez are an' search all freights.
'Phone th' agent at Davidsburg if yez want tu get
me. I'm away from there now — to wire east an' west.
Thin — I'm goin' tu ride freight awhile, up an' down
th' thrack, I can get Clem Wilson tu luk afthcr T
an' B. We must get this man, bhoys."

"Look here, Sergeant," broke in Gully good-na-
turedly, "as this is partly on my account I feel it's
up to me to try and do what little I can do to help
you in this case. There's not much doing at the ranch

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 187

just now, so, if you ve no objection, I'll put Silver
along with your team and come with ou. As you
say- we've simply got to get this fellow, somehow "
"Thank ye, Mr. Gully," responded Slavin grate-
fully, "betune th' bunch av us w. shud nail th' shtiff
all right."

"Should!" agreed the magistrate, enigmatically,
'stiff's' the word for t,." He glanced up at the
lowering sky. "Hullol It's beginning to snow again
-you foui,d those tracks just in time. Sergeant."

Six days elapsed. Six days of fru ess, monotonous
work. The evening of the seventh round the trio dis-
consolately reunited in their detachment. Their quest
had failed. Slavin, not sparing himself, had w
Yorke and Redmond to the limits of their endura ..e
and they, fully realizing the importance of their ob-'
jective, had responded loyally.

Gully, apparently betraying a keen interest in the
case, had gone out of his way to assist them -both
on the railroad and in scouring the country-side. They
were absolutely and utterly played out, and their
nerves were jangled and snappy. No possible hiding-
place had been overlooked — yet the hobo -Dick

i88 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Drinkwater — the one man who undoubtedly held the
key to the mysterious murder of Larry Blake — had
disappeared as completely as if the earth had swal-
lowed him up.

The horses cared for, and supper over, Yorke and
Redmond lay back on their cots and blagui'd each
other wearily anent their mutual ill-luck. Slavin,
critically conning over a lengthy crime-report on the
case that he had prepared for headquarters, flung his
composition on the table and leant back dejectedly
in his chair.

"Hoboes?" quoth he, darkly, and tongue-clucked in
dismal fashion. "Eyah! I just fancy I can hear th'
ould man dishcoursin' tu Kilbride av th' merry, int'-

■■ ' ways an' habits av th' genus — hobo — whin
he get's this report av mine. . . . Like he did wan
day whin he was doin' show-man round th' cells wid
a bunch av ould geezers av 'humanytaruns.' I mipd
I was Actin' Provo' in charge av th' Gyard-room at
th' toime."

He sighed deeply, folded up the report and thrust
it into an official envelope. "Well, bhoys," he con-
cluded, "we have done all that men can — for th'
toime bein' anyways."

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 189
Yorke laughed somewhat mirthlessly and gazed
dreamUy up at his pictures. "Sure have," he agreed
languidly; "from now on, though, I guess we'll just
have to take a leaf out of Micawber's book — 'wait
for something to turn up,' eh, Reddy, my old son?"

There was no answer. That young worthy, utterly
exhausted, had drifted into the arms of Morpheus

Hli

CHAPTER X

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue

Of him that makes it.

SHAKtSPEARE.

NUMBER SIX, from the East, drew up at the
small platform of Davidsburg and presently
steamed slowly on its way westward, minus
three passengers.

"Well, bhoys," said Sergeant Slavin to his hench-
men, "here we are — back tu th' land av our dhreams
wanst more. Glory be! But I'm glad tu be quit av
that warrm, shtinkin' courthroom. Denis Ryan — th'
ould rapparee, he wint af ther us harrd — in that last
case. Eyah! But I thrimmed um in th' finals. Wan
Oirishman cannot put ut over another wan."

He softly rubbed his huge hands together. "Five
years! That'll tache Mishter Joe Lawrence tu go
shtickin' his brand on other people's cattle! But —
blarney me sowl! R}ran sure is a bad man tu run
up agin when he's actin' for th' defence."
190

ill,! '

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 191

The trio had just returned from a Supreme Court
sitting where they had been handling their various
cases. It was a gloriously sunny day in June. A wet
spring, succeeded by a spell of hot weather, had trans-
formed the range into a rolling expanse of green, over
which meandered bunches of horses and cattle, their
sleek hides and well-rounded bodies proclaiming abun-
dant assimilation of nourishing pasture. ^

To men who for the past week had of necessity
been confined within the stifling atmosphere of a
crowded court-room, their present surroundings ap-
pealed as especially restful and exhilarating. During
their absence their horses had been enjoying the
luxury of a turn-out in the fenced pasture at the rear
of the detachment, where there was good feed and a
spring.

The murder of Larry Blake the previous winter stiU
remained a baffling mystery. Locally it had proved,
as such occurrences usually do, merely a proverbial
nine days wonder. Long since, in the stress and in-
terest of current events, it had faded more or less
from the minds of all men, excepting the Mounted
Police, who, though saying little concerning it, stiU
kept keenly on the alert for any possible due.

W.;

192 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Equally mystifying was the uncanny disappearance of
the hobo — Drinkwater. So far that individual had
succeeded in eluding apprehension, although minute
descriptions of him had been circulated broadcast to
police agencies throughout Canada and the United
States.

"Eyahl" Sergeant Slavin was wont to remark
sagely: " 'Tis an culd sayin', bhoys — 'Murdher will
out' — we'll sure dhrop onto it sooner or lather, an'
thin belike we'll get th' surprise av our lives — for I
firmly believe, as Kilbride said — 't'will prove tu be
some lokil man who had a grudge agin' pore Larry
for somethin' or another. So — just kape on quietly
watchin' — an' listh'nin, an' we'll nail that fella yet."

Just now that worthy was surveying his subordi-
nates with a care-free smile of bonhomie. "Guess well
dhrop inta th' shtore on our way up" suggested he,
"see'f there's any mail, an' have a yam wid ould Mac-
David."

Half way up the long, winding, graded trail that
led to the detachment, the trio turned into another trail
which traversed it at this point. Following this for
some few hundred yards westward they reached the
substantial abode of Morley MacDavid, who was, as

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 193

his name suggested, the hamlet's oldest setUer and it's
original founder.

His habitation -combining store, post-office, and
ranch-house — was a commodious frame dwelling, un-
pretentious in appearance but not wanting in'evi-
dences of prosperity. Its rear presented the usual
aspect of a ranch, with huge, well-built barns and
corrals. Although it was summer, many wide stacks
of hay and green oats, apparently left over from the
previous season, suggested that he was a cautious man
with an eye to stock-feeding during the winter months.
To neglect of the precaution of putting up sufficient
feed to tide over the severe weather might be attrib-
uted most of the annual ranching failures in the West.
The MacDavid establishment bore a well-ordered as-
pect, unlike many of the unthrifty, ramshackle ranches
of his neighbours. The fencing was of the best, and
there were no signs of decay or dilapidation in any
of the buildings. Dwarf pines were planted about
and a Morning Glory vine over-ran the house, giving
the place an air of rrstful domesticity. As they en-
tered the store the trio noticed a saddle-horse tied to
the hitching-rail outside.
They were greeted joviaUy by MacDavid himself.

i;iit!l

194 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Lounging behind his store-counter, with his back up
against a slung pack of coyote skins, he was listening
in somewhat bored fashion to a talkative individual
opposite. He evidently hailed their arrival as a wel-
come diversion. In personality, Morley MacDavid was
an admirable type of the western pioneer. A tall,
slimly-built, but wiry, active man of fifty, or there-
abouts, with grizzled hair and moustache. Burnt out
and totally ruined three successive times in the past by
the depredations of marauding Indians, the fierce, in-
domitable energy of the broken man had asserted itself
and enabled him finally to triumph over all his mis-
chances. Aided in the struggle by his devoted wife,
who throughout the years had bravely faced all dangers
and hardships with him, he had eventually accumulated
a hard-won fortune. In addition to *he patronage that
he received from the local ranches, he conducted an
extensive business trading with the Indians from the
big Reserve in the vicinity. A man of essentially
simple habits, through sentiment or ingrained thrifti-
ness, he disdained to abandon the routine and the
scenes of his former active life, although his bank-
balance and his holdings in land and stock probably ex-
ceeded that of many a more imposing city magnate.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 193

The newcomers, disposing themselves comfortably
upon various sacked commodities, proceeded to smoke
and casually inspect the voluble stranger. He was a
tallish, well-built man nearing middle-age, with a gray
moustache, a thin beak of a nose, and a bleached-blue
eyes. He was dressed in an old tweed suit, obviously
of English cut, a pair of high-heeled, spurred riding-
boots and a cowboy hat. Vouchsafing a brief nod to
the visitors he continued his conversation with Mac-
David.

"Ya-as," he was drawling, "one of the most extraor-
dinary shots you wer heard of, Morley! I was be-
tween the devil and the deep sea — properly. There
was the bear — rushing me at the double and there
was the cougar perched growling up on the rock be-
hind me. I made one jump sideways and let the bear
have it — slap through the brain, and. . . that same
shot, sir, ricocheted up the face of the rock and killed
the cougar — just as he was in the act of springing!
By George, y'know, it was one of the swiftest things
that ever happened!"

A tense silence succeded the conclusion of this thrill-
ing narrative.

MacDavid re-lit his pipe and puffed thoughtfully

m
Mj

196 THE I.UCK OF THE MOUNTED

awhile. "Eyah," he remarked reminiscently, "feller
does run up against some swift propositions now an'
again. I mind one time I was headin' home from Kana-
naskis, an' a bear jumped me from behind a fallen log.
The lever of me rifle jammed so, all I could do was to
beat it — in a hurry — an' I sure did hit th' high spots,
you bet I It was in th' early spring an' th' snow still
lay pretty deep, but — I'd got a twenty yards start of
tbr.t bear, an' I finally beat him to it an' made my get-
away."

The stranger whistled incredulously. "Wha-a-tt!"
he almost shouted, "D'ye mean to tell me that bear
got within twenty yards of you and couldn't catch you?
Why, man ! It's incredible ! "

"Fact," replied MacDavid calmly, knocking the
ashes out of his pipe, "It was this way: It was near th'
edge of th' bush where th' bear first jumped me, an' —
just as we hit th' open ground — one o' them warm
Chinook winds sprung up behind us, travellin'
east. . . .

"Man!" He paused impressively. "The way that
wind started in to melt th' snow was a corker — just
like lard in a fryin'-pan. But — I just managed to
keep ahead of it an' while I had a good, hard surface

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 197

of snow to run on, the bear — why he was sloppin
around in th' slush in my wake — couldn't get a firm
foothold, I guess. . . ."

His keen blue orbs stared full into the bleached ones
of his vis-i-vis.

"I figure that there Chinook an' me«n' th' bear must
have been all travellin' 'bout th' same line of speed —
kind of swift. After a mile or two of it, th' bear — he
got fed up an' quit cold," he ended gravely. "Why —
what's your hurry, Fred?"

But that individual, feebly raising t«th arms with
a sort of hopeless gesture, suddenly grabbed up his
mail and beat a hasty retreat to his horse.

The hoof-beats died away and MacDavid turned to
the grinning policemen. "Fred Storey," he said, in
answer to their looks of silent enquiry. "Runs th'
R.U. Ranch, out south here. Not a bad head, but" —
he sighed deeply — "he's such an ungodly liar. I
can't resist gettin' back at him now an' again — just
for luck. He's up here on a visit — st^yin' with th'
Sawyers."

"H-mm!" ejaculated Yorke, "seems to me I've got
a hazy recollection of meeting up with that fellow
before — somewhere. In a hotel in High River,

j:
m

198 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

I think it was. Beggar was yarning about Cuba,
1 remember."

"Bet it was hazy all right," was Redmond's sarcastic
rejoiner, "lilie moat of your bar-room recollections,
Yorkey." He gave vent to a snorting chuckle. "That
'D'you know? Ya! yal' accent of his reminds me of
that curate in 'The Private GecreUry." I saw it played
in Toronto, once."

At this juncture the door opened, and a trio of
Indians padded softly into the store with gaily-beaded,
moccasined feet. Two elderly bucks and a young
squaw. The latter flashed a shy, roguish grin at the
white men, and then with the customary effacement of
Indian women withdrew to the rear of thi? store.
Squatting down, all huddled-up in her blanket, she
peered at them with the incurious, but ail-seeing stare
of her tribe. George got an impression of beady black
eyes and a brown, rounded, child-like face framed in
a dazzling yellow kerchief.

The two bucks, with a momentary gleam of welcome
wrinkling their ruthless, impassive features, exchanged
a salutation with MacDavid in guttural Cree, which
language the latter spoke fluently. They were clothed
in the customary fashion of their Uibe — with a sort of

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 199

blanket-capote garment reaching below the knee, their
lower limbs swathed in strips of blanket, wound puttee-
wise. Battered old felt hats comprised their head-gear,
below which escaped two plaited pig-tails of coarse,'
mane-ijke, black hair, the latter parted at the nape of
the leck and dangling forward down their broad chests.
Slavin and Yorke hailed them familiarly. The elder
buck rejoiced in the sonorous title of "Minne-tronk-
ske-wan," but divers convirticns for insobriety under
the Indian Liquor Act, and the facetious tongue of
Yorke, had contorted this into the somewhat oppro-
brious nickname of "Many Drunks." His companion
was known as "Sun Dog."

They now proceeded to shake hands all around.
"How! Many Drunks!" shouted Yorke. Pointing to
Redmond, he added "oweski shemoganish" (new police-
man). With a ferocious grin, intended for an in-
gratiating smile of welcome, Many Drunks advanced
upon George, with outstretched hand. In a rapid aside
Yorke said: "Listen, Reddy, to what he says, he only
knows six or seven words of English, but he's as proud
as Punch of 'em — always likes to get 'em off on a
stranger. Don't laugh!"
Within a pace of Redmond that gentleman halted.

J 'm'

200 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Howl" he grunted, and, pausing impressively drew
himself up and tapped his inflated chest, "Minne-tronk-
ske-wanl . . . great man! — me — "

And then Redmond nearly choked, as Many Drunks,
with intense gravity, proudly conferred upon himself
the most objectionable title that exists in four words
of the English language — rounding that same off with
a majestic "Wah! wahl"

Turning, George beheld himself the target of covert
grins from the others, who evidently were familiar with
Many Drunks' linguistic attainments. Sun Dog merely
uttered "Howl Shemoganish." He did not profess
ability to rise to the occasion like his companion.

Yorke, who was evidently in one of his reckk
rollicking moods, proceeded to make certain teasing
overtures to Many Drunks. His knowledge of Cree
being nearly us limited as that worthy's knowledge of
English, he enlisted the aid of MacUavid as interpreter.
The dialogue that ensued was something as follows:

"Tell him I'm fed up with the Force and am thinking
seriously of going to live on the reserve — monial
nayanok-a-weget — turn 'squaw-man' — 'take the
blanket.' "

MacDavid translated swiftly, received the answer.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 201

and turned to Yorke. "He says 'Aie-/ia/ (yes) You
make good squaw-man.' "

"Ask him — if I do — if he'll muskkalonamwat
(trade) me the young lady over in the corner there, for
two bottles of skutiawpwt (whiskey)."

"He says "Nemoyahl" (no) — if he does that, you'll
turn around and kojipyhok (arrest) him for having
liquor in his possession."

"Tell him — Nemoyahl I won't."

"He says Aie-hat ekweci/ (Yes, all right) you can
have her. Says she's his brother's wife's niece. But he
says you must give him the two botUes of skutiawpwi
first, though."

The object of these frivolous negotiations had mean-
while covered her head with the blanket, from the
folds of which issued shrill giggles. Sun Dc^, who
had been listening intently with hand scooped to ear
(he was somewhat deaf), now precipitated himself into
the discussion. Violently thrusting his elder companion
aside he commenced to harangue MacDavid in an ex-
cited voice and with vehement gestures of disapproba-
tion of tile whole proceedings. The trader translated
swiftiy:

"He says Nemoyahl — not to give Uie botties to

!i|6

f,fi!|
k

202 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Many Drunks, as when he gets full of skutiainpwk he
raises hell on th' reserve, an' there's no livin' with him.
Says he beats up his squaw an' starts in to scalp th'
dogs an' chickens."

"Shtop ut!" bawled Slavin,"d'ju hear, Yorkey? . . .
shtoolin' th' nitchie on tu commit a felony an' th' like,
thataways!" He sniffed disgustedly. "Skutiawpwd
an' squaws f . . . blarney me sowl! but ye've a quare
idea av a josh. 'Tis a credit y'are tu th' Quid Counthry,
an' no error. I do not wondher ye left ut."

"Sh-sh!" said that gentleman soothingly, "coarsely
put, Burke! coarsely put! . . . Say Wine and Women,
guv'nor! Wine and Women! If you were in India,
Burke, they'd make you Bazaar-Sergeant — put you in
charge of the morals of the regiment. Both items are
all right — always providing you don't get a lady like
Misthress Lee for a chaser. How'd you like to be in
Nick's shoes? What 'shteps' would you take?"

Slavin stared at his tormentor, blankly, a moment.
"Shteps?" he ejaculated sharply, "fwhat shteps? . . .
He leant back with a fervent sigh and softly rubbed
his huge hands together. "Long wans, avick! . . .
eyah, d d long wans, begorrah!"

Many Drunks now realizing that he was merely the

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 203
victim of a joke, scowled in turn upon Yorke. Mutter-
ing something to MacDavid he backed up against the
wall and, squatting down, proceeded philosophically to
fill his pipe.

"What's that he said?" queried Yorke of the inter-
preter, "I couldn't catch it."

The latter grinned. "He says -of all the white
men he's ever met in his time, Stamixotokon* and my
self are the only ones he's ever known to tell th'
truth."

"It's my belief the beggar'd flirt with Mrs. Lee,
himself, if he only got the chance" said Redmond
laconically, "d'you recollect that day he picked her
parcel up for her — how nice she was to him?"

"Eyah," said Slavin darkly, "I remimber ut! That
man" — he darted an accusing finger at Yorke — "wud
thry tu come th' Don Jewan wid anything wid a shkirrt
on — from coast to coast. Flirrt? Yeh're tellin' th'
trute, bhoy, yeh're tellin' th' trute! He'd a-raade a
good undhershtudy for ould Nobby Guy, down
Regina."

Note by Author -The late Colonel Macleod, who for many years
was Commissioner of the R.N.W.M. Police. He was greaUv re.
spected and trusted by aU the Indian tribes

204 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

He settled himself comfortably and lit his pipe.
"Eyah, th' good ould days, th' good ould days!" he
resumed reminiscently, between puffs, "Hark now till
I tell ye th' tale av ould Nobby!"

"Is that the man they used to josh about, down
Regina?" enquired Redmond. "Used to say 'I'm a
man of few words?' "

Slavin nodded affirniatively. "That's him, Sarjint
in charrge av th' town station he was — years back.
This is — whin I was Corp'ril at headquarthers. A
foine big roosther av a man was Nobby, wid a mighty
pleasant way wid um — 'specially wid th' ladies. Wan
night — blarney me sowl! Will I iver forghet ut?
Nobby 'phones up th' Gyard-room reporthin' th'
Iroquois Hotel on fire, an' requestin' th' O.C. for a
shquad av men tu help fight ut, an' kape th' crowd
back. So down we wint, a bunch av us. It sure was a
bad fire all right. No lives was lost, but th' whole
shebang was burnt tu th' ground. Kapin' th' crowd
back was our hardest job. Du fwhat we cud, we cud
not make some av th' silly fules kape back clear av th'
danger-zone — wimmin an' all, bedadl

"By and by, a section av the wall tumbles an' quite
a bunch av people got badly hurt — Nobby amongst

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 205
thto We dhragged thim out as quick as we cud an'
laid them forninst th' wall av a buildin' near-by -
awaithin' some stretcher-bearers. Nobby'd got his le«
bruk, but he seemed chipper enough an' chewed th' rag
w.d us awhile. Next tu him was a wumman - cryin'
someOimg pitiful - she'd got her leg bruk, tu. Nobby
rised him up on his elbow an' lukked at her

"Now, 'tis powerful dhry wurrk, bhoys, iightin'
fire, an' may be Nobby-well, I cannot account for
ut otherwise-him havin' th' nerve' tu du' fwhat he
did-onless p'raps 't'was just th' natch'ril tindher-
hearthedness av th' man - thryin' for tu comfort her.
Afther that wan luk tho', Nobby he 'comes tu th'
halt, so tu shpake, an' 'marks time' awhile considherin'
-for becod, she was a harrd-Iukkin ould case-
long beyant mark av mouth.

"Pr^intly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds! -

tis ofthen I have kissed a yomg wumman!' -an' he

thwirls th' big buck m stache av um very slow-

fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . .'_a«' he

did. , . ,

"That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought
ut all on umsilf. Course at th' toime, fwhy! she
slapped th' face av um an' called um all manner av

f]!i

206 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

harrd names — but, ai th' same! she must have liked
ut, for while they was convalescin' she was everlasht-
ingly sendhin Nobby notes an' flowers an' such like.
But for £.11 that Nobby wud have no thruck wid her,
for all she was a widder, wW fixed — wid a house av
her own an' lashuns av n.oney. Whin they was both
out av hospital she was afther um again, an' du fwhat
he cud he cud not shake that wumman.

"Th' ind av ut was. Nobby reports sick, an' th'
reg'minthal docthor, ould 'Knockemorf Probyn,
gives um th' wance over. He luks over some papers
an' sez he: 'A change an' a rist is fwhat yu' need,
Sarjint Guy. There's a dhraft leavin' next week for
Herschell Island* — I think I will mark yu up fur ut.'

" 'Herschell Island?' sez pore Nobby, an' wid that
he let's 0;:'. a howl.

"'Tut, tut!' sez ould Knockemorf, who was wise
tu th' man's throuble 'Tis safer off there'll yu'll be,
man, than here, I'm thinkin'.'

"He was shtandin' by th' Gyard-room gate that day-
week whin th' dhraft marched out on their way tu
enthrain — Nobby amongst thim. 'Good-bye, Doc-

•Note by Author — This island is in the Arctic Circle. The most
northerly post of the R.N.W.M. Police.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 207
thorl ' he calls out, tears in th' eyes av um, ' 'Tis sendhin
me tu me grave y'are, God forgive yez!'

" 'Nonsincel ' shouts Knockemorf. 'Say yeh prayers
an' kape yeh bowils opin, me man, an' ye will take no
harrm!'

"Some sind-offl well! ^ time wint on, an' wan day
I gets a letther from me ould friend. Ginger Johnson
who was stationed there tu, tellin' me all th' news'
Nobby, sez he, was doin' fine, fat as a hog, an' happy
as a coon in a melun patch. Wan day, sez he, a buck
av th' name av Wampy Jones comes a runnin' inta
th' Post, wid th' face av a ghost an' th' hair av um
shtickin shtraight up. Said a Polar bear'd popped out
formnst a hummock an' chased um — like tu th' tale
av Morley, here. Nobby, sez Johnson, on'y grins at
Ih' man, an' sez he: 'That's nothin'!' An' thin he
shtarts in tellin' thim all 'bout this widder at Regina "

^Mf

CHAPTER XI

ifethougkt I heard a voice cry,
Macbeth shall sleep no more!

UACBITH.

THE sergeant's story evoked a general laugh from
his hearers. He arose and knocked the ashes
out of his pipe. "Come on, bhoysl" said he.
"Let's beat ut. Morley here's a respectable married
man — we've bin demoralisin' him an' his store long
enough, I'm thinkin'."

I ocketing his packet of mail he and his subordinates
stepped to the door, MacDavid casually following them
outside. Tethered to the hitching-post, they noticed,
were the team of scare-crow cayuses belonging to
Sun Dog and Many Drunks.

"Poor beggars look as if a turn-out on the range
wouldn't do them any harm," remarked Redmond.

The thud of hoof-beats suddenly fell upon their ears
and, turning, they beheld Gully on his gray horse
loping past them, about twenty yards distant.
Apparently in a hurry, he merely waved to them and

io8

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 209

rode on, heading in the direction of his ranch. And
then occurred a starUing, sinister incident which no
man there who witnessed it ever forgot.

Suddenly, with the vicious instinct of Indian curs,
three dogs which had been sprawling in the shade of
the dilapidated wagon-box sprang forward simul-
taneously in a silent, savage dash at the horse's heels.
The nervous animal gave a violent jump, nearly un-
seating its rider, who pitched forward onto the saddle-
horn.

They heard his angry, startled oath, and saw him
jerk his steed up and whirl about, then, quick as con-
juring, came a darting movement of his right hand
between the lapels of his coat and a pistol-barrel
gleamed in the sun.

The curs, by this time, were flying back to the shelter
of the wagon-box, but ere they reached it — crack!
crack 1 crack! three shots rang out in quick succession,
and three lumps of quivering canine flesh sprawled
grotesquely on the prairie.

The startled spectators stared aghast. Startled —
for, though all of them there were more or less trained
shots, such swift, deadly gunmanship as this was utterly
beyond their imaginations. Gully had made no pre-

210 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
tence at aiming. With a snapping action of his wrist
he had seemed to literally fling the shots at the retreat-
ing dogs. It was the practised whirl and flip of the
iinished gun-man.

No less astounding was the uncanny legerdemain
displayed in drawing from and replacing the weapon
in its place of concealment The Indians, atUacted
from the store by the sounds of shooting, began gab-
bling and gesticulating affrightedly, but when Mac-
David spoke to them sharply in Cree they retreated
inside again.

Some diswiice away, glaring at the dead dogs, the
justice sat in his saddle, and from beneath his huge
moustache he spat a volley of most un-magisterial
oaths, delivered in a snarling, nasal tone foreign to
the ears of his listeners. A minute or so he remained
thus, then his baleful eyes met the steady, meaning
stare of the motionless quartette and his face changed
to a blank, irresolute expression. He made a motion of
urging his horse forward, then, checking it abruptly,
he wheeled about, loping away in his original direction.
The trader was the first one to find his voice.
"Well, my God!" he ejaculated. "Did you ever see
th' like o' that?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 211

His companions remained curiously silent. "Gully 1 "
he continued, with vibrating voice, "whoever'd
a-thought that that drawlin' English dude could shoot
I'ke that?... Fred Storey should have been

here " Still getting no response to his remarks

he glanced up wonderingly. The three policemen
were staring strangely at each other, and something
m their expression startled him.

"Eh! Why! What's up?" he queried sharply.
Then Slavin spoke grimly. "Let's go luk at thim
dogs," was all he vouchsafed.

They stepped forward and inspected the carcasses
critically. "Fifty yards away, if he was a foott"
said Redmond, "and he dropped them in one! two!
three! ..."

"Slap through the head, too!" muttered Yorke
"Burke! "-he added suddenly. Slavin met his eye
with a steady, meaning stare; then, at something he
read m his subordinate's face, the sergeant's deep-set
orbs dilated strangely and he swung on his heel.

"Aye! " h( ejaculated with an oath "I was forghettin'
thim-come bhoys! let's go luk for thim. Shpread
out, or we may miss the place."

"Empty shells," explained Yorke to the others.

) I

13 ;

212 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"automatic ejection — you remember, Reddyl We
may iind them."

Keeping a short distance apart, they sauntered for-
ward, trying to recall the spot Gully had shot from.
For awhile, with bent heads, they circled slowly about
each other, carefully scrutinizing the short turf. Pres-
ently the trader uttered a low exclamation. "Here's
th' place!" he said, pointing downwards. The othert
joined him and they all gazed at the cluster of deeply-
indented hoof-marks, indicating where the horse had
propped and whirled about.

"Aha! "said Redmond, suddenly.
"Got ut?" queried Slavin.

For answer George dropped a small discharged shell
into the other's outstretched palm. The sergeant
made swift examination. A shocking blasphemy
escaped him, and for an instant he jerked back his
arm as if to fling the article away, then, recovering
himself with an effort, he handed it to Yorke, who
peered in turn.

The latter made a wry face. "Hell!" he ejaculated
disgustedly, "it's a 'Savage' this - thirty-two at
that!" He lowered his voice. "The other was a
thirty-eight Luger — what?"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 213

"Time an' agin," Slavin was declaiming in impotent
rage and with upraised fist, — "Time an' ag'in - have
we shtruck a lead on this blasted case — on'y tu find

ut peter out agin Oh! how long, O Lord? how

long? . . ."

MacDavid stopped in turn. "Here's th' other two,
Sarjint," he said. Slavin dropped the shells into his
pocket and for a space he remained in deep thought.
Then he turned to the trader.

"Morley," he said quietly, "yu're not a talker, I
know, but -anyways! ... I ask ye now .. . ye'll
oblige me by shpakin' av this tu no man - yet awhiles
■ . . -Ihavemeraysons — onnershtand?"

The eyes of the two men met, and question and
answer were silently exchanged in that one significant
look.

MacDavid nodded brief acquiescence to the other's
request. "Aye!" he replied reflectively, "I think I
do — now. . . ."

The sergeant turned to his men. "Come on, bhoys ' "
he said. "Let's beat ut home. I'm gettin' hungry."

They bid the trader adieu, and trudged away in the
cLrection of the detachment. They had covered some
quarter f a mile in silence when Slavin, who was in

lii

a 14 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

the lead, suddenly halted and whirled on his subordi-
nates with a mirthless laugh.

"Windy Moran, begodi" he burst out, "mind fwhat
he said that day 'bout Gully an' that dep'ty sheriff

bizness? ... not so 'Windy' afther all, I'm

thinkin', eh?"

For some few seconds they sUred at him, aghast.
They had forgotten Moran.

"Say, Burke, though?" ejaculated Yorke incredu-
lously. "Good God! somehow the thing seems im-
possible ... not the 'sheriff' business so much
the other -Gully! -a J.P._a man of his class
and Standing! . . . Why! whatever motive — "
"He may have two guns," broke in Roiln, i .d.
"Eyah," agreed Slavin, grimly, "he may. ... A
Luger's a mighty diff'runt kind av a gun tu other
authomatics ... an' th' man that shoi Larry Blake
ain't likely tu be fule enough tu risk packin' ut around
— for a chance tu thrip um up some day."

For awhile the trio cogitated in silence; each man
striving desperately to arrive at some logical solution to
the extraordinary problem that now faced them.

"Bhoys!" said Slavin presently, "there's no doubt
there is . . . somethin' damnably wrong 'bout all this.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 215

But, all th' same, fact remains, ye cannot shtart in
makin' th' Force a laughin' stock by charrgin' a man av
Gully's position wid murdher - widout mighty shtrong
evidence tu back ut. An' sizin' things up — fwhat
have we got, afther all, . . . right now . . . tu shwear
out a warrant on? . . . Nothin', really, 'cept thaf he's
shown us he's a bad man wid a gun! A damned bad
break that was, tho', an' I'll bet he's sorry for that
same, tu. Mind how he kept on thravellin', widout
comin' back tu shpake wid us?"

He shook his head slowly, in sinister fashion, and
stared at their troubled faces in turn. "See here; luk,"
he resumed solemnly, with lowered voice, "honest tu
God, in me own mind T du believe he is th' man that
done ut." He paused — "but provin' ut's a diff'runt
matther. We must foUer this up an' get some shtronger
evidence yet — behfure we make th' break."

Suddenly he uttered a hollow chuckle. "Kilbride!"
he ejaculated. "Mind his josh that day — 'bout it
might be me, or Gully? — an how Gully laughed,
tu, wid th' hand of um like this?"

Napoleonic fashion he thrust his huge fist between
the buttons of his stable-jacket.

"Yes, by gad!" said Yorke reflectively. "I sure do

2i6 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

now. And I'll bet he had his right hand on his gun,
too! Force of habit, I guess, if he's an ex-deputy-
sheriff. From what little he's dropped he's sure
knocked around some, I know. Hard to say where,
and what the beggar hasn't been in his time. This'
accounts for him being so blooming close about the
Western States. It's always struck me as being queer,
that, because, say, look at the slick way he rides and
ropes! He's never picked that up in five years over
on this Side — and that's all he claims he's been in
Canada."

"Besides" chimed in Redmond, eagerly, "that yam
of his about that hobo swiping his dough. Sergeant!
'Frame-up,' p'raps, ... gave it to him and told him
to beat it? . . ."

"Aw, rot!" said Yorke, disgustedly. He sniffed with
his peculiar mannerism, "that's dime-novel stuff, Red.
D'ye think he'd be fool enough to risk that, with the
chances of the fellow being picked up any minute and
squealing on him?" He was silent a moment. "Rum
thing, though," he murmured, "the way that hobo
did beat us to it."

" 'Some lokil man,' sez Kilbride," remarked Slavin
musingly. "Just th' last one ye'd think av suspectin'.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 217

An' Gully, bego>i, sittin' right there! ... talk 'bout
nerve! . . ."

"But, goo i heavens!" burst out Yorke. "Whoever
would have jxi-pecied jim?" He laughed a trifle
bitterly. "It's all very well for us to turn round now
and say 'what fools we've been,' and all that. If we'd
have been the smart, 'never-make-a-mistake' Alecks,
like we're depicted in books, why, of course we'd have
'deducted' this right-away. I suppose? Oh, Ichabod!
Ichabod! An Englishman, too, by gad! I'll forswear
my nationality."

"Whatever could he have on Larry, though?" was
Redmond's bewildered query. "Say, that sure was a
hell of a trick of his — using Windy's horse — while
the two of them were scrapping — trying to frame it up
on him!"

"Eyah," soliliquised the sergeant sagely. " 'Twill
all come out in th' wash. Whin diver, edjucated
knockabouts like Gully du go bad, begob, they make th'
very wurrst kind av criminals. They kin pass things
off wid th' high hand an' kape their nerve betther'n th'
roughnecks — ivry toime.

"Think av that terribul murdherer, Deeming — an'
thim tu docthors — Pritchard an' Pahner, colludge

m j

218 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

men, all av thim. An' not on'y men, but wimmin, tu.
Member Mrs. Maybrick? All movin' in th' hoighth av
society!"

He was silent a moment, then his face fell. "I must
take a run inta th' Post an' see th' Q.C. 'bout this »
he resumed. "Tis an exthornary case. There's just 'a
possibility we may be all wrong - jumphin' at con-
clusions tu much. Th' ould man! . . . I think I can
see th face av urn. He'll shling his pen across th'
Ordly-room. 'Damn th' man! Damn th' man!' he'll
cry. 'Go you now an' apprehend urn on suspicion thin!
Fwhy shud I kape a dog an' du me own barkin'?'
An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' chunt 'Poppycock
all poppycock! . . . ;.s you were, Sarjint'-an' thin
he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh
fules?" he queried irritably.

In spite of the gravity of the situation, the expres-
sion on their superior's cadaverous face just then —
its droll mixture of apprehension and perplexity was
more than Yorke and Redmond could stand. Awhile
they rocked up against each other -a trifle hysteri-
cally; it was the reaction to nerves worked up to a
pitch of intense excitement.
"Yez gigglin' idjutsl" growled Slavin. "Come on,

IHE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 219

let's get home! No use us shtandin here longer —
gassin' like a bunch av ould washer-wimmin full av
gin an' throuble."

In silence they trudged on to the detachment.
'"Ome, sweet 'ome! be it never so 'umble!" quoth
Yorke, as they reached their destination, "Hullo! who's
this coming along?" Shading his eyes with his hand
he gazed down the trail. "Looks like Doctor Cox and
Lanky."

The trio stared at the approaching buckboard which
contained two occupants. "Sure is," said Redmond,
"out to some case west of here, I suppose."

They hailed the physician cheerily, as presently he
drew up to th- r;,,tachment. "Fwh-re away, Docthor?"
queried Sla- Will ye not shtop an' take dinner

wid us, yu' „a- Lanky? 'Tis rarely we see yez in
these parts now."

"Eh, sorry!" remarked that gentleman, climbing out
of the rig and stretching his cramped limbs, "got to
get on to Horton's, though. One of their children's
sick. Thanks, all the same, Sergeant." Glancing
round at his teamster he continued in lowered tones,
"There's a littie matter I'd like to speak to you fellows'
about."

220 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Sure!" agreed Slavin, quickly. "Come inside thin
Docthor."

The party entered the detachment and, seating them-
selves, gazed enquiringly at their visitor. For a space
he surveyed them reflectively, a perturbed e.-5)ression
upon his usually genial countenance. His first words
startled them.

"It's about your J.P., Mr. Gully," he began. "This
mcdent, mind, is closed absolutely - as far as te and
I are concerned; but, under the circumstances, which
to say the least struck me as being mighty peculiar,
I -well! . . . I don't think it's any breach of medical
etiquette on my part telling you about it.

"For some time past now I've been treating Gully
for insomnia. Man first came to me seemingly on the
verge of a nervous breakdown through it.

"I prescribed him some pretty strong opiates —
strong as I dare -and for a time he seemed to get
relief. But a couple of days ago he came around and
-my God! . . . Say! if I hadn't known him for a
man who drinks very litUe I'd have sworn he was in
the D.T.'s."

The doctor's rotund figure stiffened slightly in his
seat, and his genial face hardened to a degree that

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 221

was in iteelf a revelation to his audience. Without
any semblance of bravado he continued quietly «I
hope I possess as much physical pluck as most men -
I guess you fellows aren't aware of it, but many years
back I too wore the Queen's uniform - Surgeon i.
the Navy. I served in that Alexandria affair, under
Charlie Beresford.

"Well, as I was saying, . . . Gully came into my
surgery that day, raving like a madman. He's a big
pcwerful devi- as you know. I'll confess I was a b''
dubious about him -watched him pretty close for a
few mmutes, for he acted as if he might start running
amok I can't sleep!' he kept yelling at me, I can't
sleep, I tell you! . . . That dope you're giving me's
no good. . . . Christ Almighty! give me a shot of
cocame, Cox, or morphine, and get me a supply of the
stuff and a needle, will you? I'll payyou any amount!'
Naturally, I refused. I'm not the man to go laying
myself open to anything like that. Well! Good God!
The next minute the man came for me like a lunatic
- clutchmg out at uie with those great hands of his
and With the most murderous expression on his face you
can miagine. I backed away to the medicine cabinet
and caught hold of a pestie and told him I'd brain him

222 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

with -X if he touched me. I threatened I'd lay an in-
formation against him for assault, and that seemed ro
quiet him down. He began to expostulate then, and
eventually broke down and apologised to me — in the
most abject fashion. Begged me to overlook his loss
of control, and all that. Of course I let up on him then.
A local scandal between two men in our position

wouldn't do at all. I gave him a d d good calling

down, though, and finally advised him to go away some-
wLcre for a complete rest and change. But he wouldn't
agree to that — seemed worried over his ranch. Said
he'd worked up a pretty good outfit and couldn't think
of leaving his stock in somebody else's hands at this
time of the year — couldn't afford it in fact. Anyway
— that's his look-out. But, as a matter of fact, if that
man doesn't take my advice, why . . . he's going to
collapse. I know the symptoms only too well. That's
the curse of men living alone on these homesteads —
brooding, and worrying their heads off. It seems to get
them all eventually in — "

Breaking off abruptly he glanced at his watch.
"Getting late!" he ejaculated, jumping up, "I must
be getting on to that case."

"Docthorl" said Slavin, reflectively, « 'tis a shtrange

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 223

story yeVe been tellin' us. Ye'll be comin' back this
way, I suppose — lather in th' day?"
The physician nodded.

"I'd like fur ye tu dhrop in agin, thin," continued
the sergeant slowly, "if ye have toime? There's a
Utle matther I wud like tu dishcuss wid yu'-'tis
'bout that same man."

Doctor Cox glanced sharply at the speaker's earnest
sombre ace. A certain sinister earnestness underla;
the simple words, and it startled him.

"Very good, Sergeant!" he agreed, "I'll call in on
my^way back. Well! good-by, all of you, for the time

They followed him outside and watched the rij:
depart on its journey westward. It was Redmond
who broke the long silence.

"Well, sacred Billy! What do you know about
that?" he ejaculated tensely.

And the trio turned and looked upon each other
strangely, their faces registering mutual wonderment
and conviction.

"Sleep?" murmured Yorke, "No, by gum* „o

more could Macbeth, with King Duncan and Banquo
on his chest o' nights! . . . Well, that settles if"

2 24 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

But Slavin made a gesture of dissent. "As you were,
bhoys!" was his sober mandate. "Sleeplishness's no
actual proof . . . but it's a pointer. Th' iron's getthin'

warrm — eyah! d d warrml ... but we cannot

shtrike yet."

CHAPTER XII

But a -nci /.. «A» strain; lor my soul it u sad
To thmk that a heart in humanity clad
Should make, like the brute,, such a desolate end
And depart from the light without leaving a friend

Bear soft his bones over the stones I

Though a Pauper, he's one whom his Maker yet owns!

"THE PAUPERS DBIVE"

THEY ate dinner more or less in silence. Slavin
had relapsed into one of his fits of morose
taciturnity. At the conclusion of the meal,
Yorke and Redmond drew a bench outside, and for
awhile sat in the sun, smoking.

"He's got 'Charley-on-his-back' properly to-day » re-
marked the sophisticated Yorke, with a sidelong jerk of
his head, "old bes^gar's best left alone, begad! when he
get's those fits on him." H-^ sniffed the fresh air and
gazed longingly out over the sunlit, peaceful landscape
flooded with a warm, sleepy, golden haze of summer'
"Lordl but it's a peach of a day" he continued, "say
gossip mine, did you think to get that fishing-tackle
at Martin's this morning?"
235

!i! "f

•1; m

226 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

George nodded affirmatively. Yorke rose and
stepped indoors. "Say, Burke," he said persuasively,
"there's not much doing this afternoon — how's
chances for me and Reddy going down to the Bend
for a bit? The water looks pretty good just now. You'll
want to have a lone chin with the Doctor, anyway,
no use us sticking around."

The sergeant, engrossed in a crime-report, acceded
gruffly to the request. "Run thim harses in first, tho'! "
he flung after his subordinate, "an' du not yu' men get
tu far away down-shtream, in case I might want yez."

"Th-it's 'Jake,' " was Redmond's comment, a moment
latei, ' ;!( use trying fly-fishing to-day, though, Yorkey
— too bright. We'd better fish deep. Here, you get
the rods all fixed up, and catch some grasshoppers, and
I'll chase out in the pasture and run the horses in."

Some half an hour later found them trudging down
the long slope below the detachment that led to the
nearest point of the Bow River, Here the river
described a sharp bend southward for some
distance, ere resuming its easterly course. Arriv-
ing thither, they fished for awhile in blissful con-
tent; their minds for the time-being devoid of
aught save the sport of Old Izaak. Picking

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 227

likely spots for deep casts, they meandered slowly

down-stream, keeping about twenty yards apart

At intervals, their piscatorial efforts were rewarded

with success. Four fine "two-pounders" of the Cut-

Throat" species had fallen to Yorke's rod - three to

Redmond's. Then, for a time the fish ceased to bite.

Here!" said Yorke suddenly. "I'm getting fed up

vvuh this! I can't get a touch. There's a big hole

farther down, just up above Gully's place. Let's try

It! He and I pulled some good 'uns out of there last

year." '

Eventually they reached their objective. At this
point the force of the current had gradually, with the
years, scooped out a large, semicircular portion of the
shelving bank. Also, a spit of gravel-bar, jutting far
out into the water, had stranded a small boom of logs
and drift-wood; the whole constituting a veritable
breakwater that only a charge of dynamite could have
shifted. In the shelter of this and the hollowed-out
bank, a huge, slow eddy of water had formed,
apparently of great depth.

As Yorke had advertised it -it did look like a
hkely kind of a hole for big trout. "You wouldn't
thmk it," said he now, "but there's twenty feet of water

^ F

238 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
in that pot hole." He put down his rod and slowly
began to fill his pipe. "You can have first shot at it,
Red" he remarked, "I'll be the unselfish big brother.
You ought to land a good 'un out of there. Aha I
what'd I tell you?"

Redmond's gut "leader" had barely sunk below the
surface when he felt the thrilling, jarring strike of an
unmistakably heavy fish. The tried, splendid "green-
heart" rod he was using described a pulsating arc under
the strain. He turned to Yorke gleefully. "By gum!
old thing, I've sure got one this time," he said, "bet
you he's ten pound if he's an ounce. Hope the line'll
hold!"

Simultaneously they uttered an excited exclamation,
as a huge, silvery body darted to the surface, threshed
the water for the fraction of a second, and then dived.

"Look out!" cried Yorke. "Give him line, Red,
give him line! Play him careful now, or you'll lose
him!"

The reel screeched, as Redmond let the fish run.
Then — without warning — the line slacked and the
rod straightened. George, gi'ing vent to a dismayed
oath, reeled in until the line tautened again, and the
point of the rod dipped.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 229

"What's up?" queried Yorke, "he's still on, isn't
he?"

"Yes," growled Redmond miserably, "feels as if I'm
snagged though. He's there right enough - I can feel
himjumpmg. Damnation! That's the worst of string-
mg three hooks on your leader. One of 'em's snagged
on something below, 1 guess. Here! hold the rod a
minute, Yorkey!"

The latter complied. George unbuttoned and threw
off his stable-jacket and began taking off his boots
Yorke contemplated his comrade's actions in speechless
amazement. "Why, what the devil? - " he began -
"I'm not going to lose that fish," mumbled Redmond
sulkily, as he threw off his clothes, "I'll get him by
gum! if I have to dive to the depths of Hell."

"Say, now! don't be a fool!" cried Yorke, "that
■.vater's like ice, man! You'll get cramped, and then
tflf two of us'll drown. We-11, of all the idiots! — »

George, by this time stripped to the buff, crept gin-
gerly to the edge of the shelving bank. In his right
hand he grasped - opened — a small pen-knife. "Aw
quit it!" he retorted rudely, "I'll only be under a
minute -hold the line taut - straight up and down,
Yorkey, so's I can see where to dive."

n.'

230 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

He drew a deep breath, and then, with the poise of a
practised swimmer, dived — cutting the water with
barely a splash. For the space of a half-minute Yorke
stared apprehensively at the swirling eddy, beneath
which the other had vanished. The line still remained
taut. Then he gave a gasp of relief, as Redmond's
head re-appeared, and that young gentleman swam to
the side. Extending a hand, the senior constable
lugged his comrade to terra iirma.

"That's good!" he ejaculated fervently. "D n

the fish, anyway! I guess you couldn't make — "
He broke off abruptly, and remained staring at the
dripping George with startled eyes. The latter's face
registered unutterable horror, and he shook as with the
ague. Speech seemed beyond him. He could only
mouth and point back to the gloomy depths whence
he had just emerged.

"Here!" cried Yorke, with an oath, "whatever is
the matter, Reddy? Man! you look as if you'd seen
a ghost!"

Then his own face blanched, as the shivering George
bubbled incoherently, "B-b-body! b-b-body! My
God, Yorkey! th-there's a s-s-stiff d-down th-there!
Ugh ! I d-d-dived right onto it 1 "

k I

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 231
For a brief space they remained staring at each
other; then, a strange light of understanding brolie
over Yorke's face, and he made a snatch at Redmond's
clothes. Come!" he jerked out briskly. "Get 'em
on quick, Red, else you'll catch your death of cold —
never mind about drying yourself -you can change
when you get back."

In shivering silence his comrade commenced to
struggle into his underclothes and "fatigue-slacks."
Yorke snapped the line and reeled in the slack. "Stiff! "
he kept ejaculating "stiff! Yes, by gad! and I can
make a pretty good guess who that stiff is!
Burke'll have all the evidence he wants — now. You
beat it, Reddy, as soon as you're fit and get him. A
run 11 warm you up. The grappling-irons are back of
the stable. And say! tell him to bring a good long
rope. Lord, I hope Doctor Cox hasn't left yet. I'll
stay here, Reddy. Hurry up! "

An hour or so later, a morbidly expectant gioup
gathered on the river-bank. Redmond, luckily, had
reached the detachment just prior to the coroner's
departure, and that gentleman now comprised one of a
party. Slavin had hitched his team to a cotton-wood

232 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

clump nearby, and was now busily rigging the double
set of three-pronged grappling-irons. When all was
ready, he motioned to his companions to stand back,
and then, with a preliminary whirl or two, flung the
irons into the pool, some distance ahead of the spot
Indicated by Redmond.

Slowly and ponderously he began the dragging re-
cover, with the muscular skill of a man long inured to
the gruesome business. His first effort was unsuc-
cessful — weeds and refuse were all he salvaged. He
tried again, with the same result. Cast after cast
proved futile. After the last failure he turned and
glowered morosely upon Redmond.

" 'Tis either dhrunk or dhramin' ye must be, bhoyi
There's nothin' there. I've a good mind," he added

slowly "a d d good mind tu shove ye undher

arrest for makin' a friv'lus report tu yeh superior!"

Yorke now came to his comrade's rescue. "By gum,
Burke," he flashed out "if you'd seen his mug when he
came up out of that hole you wouldn't have thought
there was anything frivolous about it, I can tell you!"

Poor George voiced a vehement protest, in self de-
fense. "Good God, Sergeant!" he expostulated, "d'you
think I'd come to you with a yam like that? I tell

Hil t

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 233

you it is there. Have another try. Sling farther over

to the right here!"
Grumblingly, the latter complied, and began the

slow recover. Suddenly, the rope checked. Slavin

strained a moment, then he turned around to the ex-
pectant group. "Got ut!» he announced grimly "I
can tell by th' feel av ut. Tail on tu th' rope there
allavyez! Nowl Yeo! Heave ho!"

Like a tug of war team they all bowed their backs
and strained with all their might; but their efforts
proved futile. "Vast heavin!" said Slavin, breathing
heavily. " 'Tis shtuck somehow - 1 will have tu get
th' team an' double-trees. Get a log off'n that break-
water, bhoys, so's th' rope will not cut inta th' edee av
th' bank."

He crossed over to the horses. "Now!" said he
some minutes later, as he backed up the team and made'
all fast to the double-trees. "Yu', Reddy, an' Lanky,
guide th' rope over th' log. Yu', Yorkey, get th' feel
av ut, an' give me th' wurrd. I du not want to
break ut."

Yorke leant over the edge of the bank, loosely
feeling the rope. "All right!" he announced.
Slavin, edging his team cautiously forward, and

234 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

taking the strain to avoid a violent jerk, clucked to
them. With a scramble, and a steady heave of their
powerful hind-quarters, they started.

With bated breath the watchers gazed at the rope —
creeping foot by foot out of the discoloured water.
"Keep a-going!" Yorke shouted to Slavin. "It's com-
ing up, all right!"

It came. Arising slowly and sullenly out of the
depths they beheld a horrible, dripping, shapeless
something that eventually resolved itself into a human
body — clothed in torn rags and matted with river-
refuse.

Then, to the salvagers, came the most astounding
and sinister revelation of all. Startled oaths burst
from them as they beheld now what had retarded their
first pull. Bound tightly to the body with rusted wire
was a huge, hand-squared block of stone. The ser-
geant's last and successful cast had resulted in two
prongs of the grappling-irons catching in the envelop-
ing wire.

Slowly and cautiously the whole hideous bulk was
finally drawn up the shelving bank and over the log
and onto dry ground. Yorke shouted, and Slavin,
checking the horses, detached the rope from the double-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 235
trees. Handing the lines over to Lanky Jones he
joined the others, who were critically examining their
gruesome catch. To their surprise, although the
features were unrecognisable, the corpse was not so
decomposed as they had first imagined, the ice-cold
water havmg preserved it to a certain extent." Still
firmly hooked to the rags of clothing -a ludicrously
gnm joke^was the huge jumping, gasping trout
waich Redmond had struck and lost.

Suddenly Yorke uttered a low exclamation. "Burke-
Burke!" he said tensely, "there you are! . . . Look at
the right hand!"

The eyes of all were centered on the grimy, stiffened,
clawhke fist. They saw that two of the fingers were
missing.^ An exultant oath burst from Slavin. "By
G !" he said, with grim conviction, "it's him all
right! -that pore hobo shtiff-Dick Drinkwater
Eyah! fwhat's in a name? Fwhat's in a name?" He
pomted to the grinning jaws. "Luk at th' gold teeth
avum,tu!" he added.

The coroner was examining the almost fleshless skull
He gave a cry of anger and dismay. "Good God'"
he gasped. "Look here, all of you! . . . This man's
been shot through the head, too!" He indicated the

236 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

small, circular orifice in the occiput, and its egress
below the left eye.

"Only an exceedingly powerful, high-pressure
weapon could have done that," he continued signifi-
cantly, "both holes are alike — bullet hasn't 'mush-
roomed' at all."

"Eyah!" Slavin agreed wearily. "We know fwhat
kind av a gun did ut. And luk herel" he added sav-
agely, pointing to the bare feet, "here's another of
Mr. Man's little jokes — no boots. If they'd have
been lift on they'd have shtuck tighter'n glue — in
that water. Reddy was 'bout right, Yorkey! Gully,

d n him! did frame us that day. Must have used

thim himsilf tu make thim thracks wid — early in th'
momin' — behfure he met up wid us on th' thrall.
Oh, blarney my sowll Yes! Had us chasin' for a
whole silly week, all for — "

He broke off abruptly, choking with rage. For
awhile, in silence, the party gazed at the pitiful, hideous
monstrosity that had once been a man. Then the
ever-practical Redmond proceeded, with the aid of
a large pebble, to burst, strand by strand, the wire
which bound the stone to the body.

"That stone, too!" said the doctor darkly. "Ser-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 237
geant, in view of what you've been telling me, there
seems something very, very terrible about all this.
I suppose there's absolutely no doubt in your mind now
who — ?" '

The Irishman jerked out a great oath. "Doubt!"
echoed he grimly, "doubt! So little doubt, Docthor "
added he hoarsely, "that we go get 'urn this very night'"
"Alas, poor Yorick!" said Yorke sadly. "Say,
Burke!" he continued in an awe-struck voice "this is
like a leaf out of O'Brien's book, with a vengeance.
You remember him, that cold-blooded devil who
Pennycuik nailed up in the Yukon -used to shoot
'em and shove their bodies under the ice?"

Slavin nodded gloomily. "At Tagish, ye mane?
Yeah! I 'member ut. Penny sure did some good
wurrk on that case."

Redmond had by this time completed his gruesome
task. "There's lots of these blocks lying around
Gully's," he remarked, "I've seen 'em. Place's got
a stone foundation. Look at the notches he's chipped
m this one — to keep the wire from slipping!"

"Eyah!" said Slavin, with grimly-unconscious
humour, "Exhibit B. We must hang on to ut, heavy
as it us - an' th' wire, tul Well, people, we'd betther

238 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
shove this pore shtiff on the buckboard, an' beat ut."
He turned to the doctor's laconic factotum. "Come on,
Lanky 1" he said briskly. "Let's go hitch up."

Presently, when all was ready, Slavin took the lines
and the coroner climbed up beside him. The rest of
the par'y followed on foot. A sombre, strange little
procession it looked, as it moved slowly westward into
the dusky blaze of a blood-red sunset. In the hearts
of the policemen grim resolve was not unmixed with
certain well-founded forebodings, as they fully realized
what a sinister, dangerous mission lay ahead of them
that night.

CHAPTER XIII

•Twa, then -like tiger close beut
At every pass with toil and net
•Counter-d. where'er he turns hu glare.
By clashmg arms and torches' flare
Who meditates, with furious bound
To burst o„ hunter, horse, and hound, -
Twos then that Bertram's soul arose
Prompting to rush upon his joes.

SCOTT

THE Old detachment clock struck nine wheezy
notes. Yorke and Redmond, seated at a table
busily engaged in cleaning their service revolvers
glanced up at each other sombrely

should be up soon now. Lanky," he continued,
addressmg that individual who was sitting nearby
what are you and the Doctor going to do? Going
back to Cow Run tonight, or what?"

"Don't think it," replied the teamster laconically
He glanced towards the open door and assumed a
I'stemng attitude. «Th' Sarjint an' him's out there
now-chemn' th' rag >bout it-hark to 'eml"

239

240 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Ceasing their cleaning operations for a space, the
two constables listened intently to the raised voices
without. "Nol no! no!" came Slavin's soft brogue,
in tones of vehement protest to something the coroner
had said, "I tell yu' 'tis not right, Docthor, ihat yu'
shud run such risk! Wid us 'tis diff'runt — takin' th'
chances av life an' death — just ord'nary course av
juty. . . ."

"Oh, tut! tut! nonsense, Sergeant," was the physi-
cian's brisk response. "You forget. I've taken those
same chances before, too, and, by Jove! I can take
'em again! All things considered," he added signifi-
cantly, "seems to me — er — perhaps just as well I
should be on hand."

Yorke and Redmond exchanged rueful ■ r'ns. "The
old sport!" quoth the latter admiringl;, "Damme,
but I must say the Doc's game!"

"It's the old 'ex-service spirit'," said Yorke quietly,
"rum thingi Always seems to crop out, somehow, when
there's real trouble on hand."

Nonchalantly puffing a huge cigar, the object of
their re; trks presently strolled back into the room,
followed by the sergeant. "Behould th' 'last coort
av appea?/ Docthor," began Slavin majestically. With

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 241

a whimsical grin he indicated his subordinates.
Bhoys," he explained, "contrairy tu my wishes, th'
Docthor insisu on comin' wid us this night. Now fwhat
yez know 'bout that?"

"Tried to shake me!" supplemented that genUeman
tersely, waving his cigar at the last speaker. "What's
this court's ruling?"

A stern smile flitted over Yorke's high-bred features
"Appeal sustained," he announced decisively "eh
Reddy?" '' '

For answer, his comrade arose and silently wrung
the doctor's hand; then, without show of emotion, he
resumed his seat and likewise his cleaning operations.
Yorke, as silently, duplicated his comrade's actions
The ex-Naval surgeon said nothing; but his eyes
glistened strangely as he dropped into an easy chair
and proceeded to envelope himself in a cloud of
smoke.

Suddenly the nasal voice of the teamster, Lanky
Jones, made itself heard. "How 'bout me?" he
drawled, "ain't I in on this, too? I kin look after th'
hawsses, anyways, fur yeh!"

"Arrah thin! hark tu um?" said Slavin, in mock
despair. "Docthor, 'tis a bad example yeVe settin'.

If.

242 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
All right, thin, Lanky, ye shall come, an' ye wish ut.
An' as man tu man — I thank yet We will all go a
'moonlightin' tugither. Eyahl" he resumed reminis-
cently, "many's th' tolme I -lind me ould father —
God rist him! — tellin' th' tales av thim days, whin
times was harrd in Oireland, an' rints wint up an' th'
pore was dhriven well-nigh desprit. How him an' his
blood-cousin, Tim Moriarty, lay wan night for an'
ould rapparee av a landlord, who'd evicted pore Tim
out av house an' home. Tim had an' ould blundher-
buss, all loaded up wid bits av nales an' screws an'
such-like, wid a terribul big charrge av powther be-
hint ut. Four solid hours did they wait for um —
fominst a hedge on th' road he had tu come home
by, from Ballymeen Fair.

"By an' by they hears um a-comin . . . a-hollerin'
an' laughin' tu umsilf, an' roarin' an' singin' 'Th'
Jug av Potheen.' Full av ut, tu, by token av th' voice
av um. Tim makes all ready wid th' blundherbuss.
All av a suddint tho', th' tchune shtops, an' tho' they
waits for um for quite a toime, he niver shows up.
By an* by they gets fed up wid lyin' belly-down in th'
soakin' rain. 'H-mm! mighty quare!' sez me father,
'I wonder fwhat's happened tu th' pore ould ginthle-

243

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

man?" 'Let us go luk for um?' sez Tim, wid , in
his oi, ' 'tis may be he's on'y shtoppin' tu take auotiier
dhrink out av cL' Jug.'

"So, up th' road they goes a piece, till they comes
tu a bog at th' side av ut. An' there they finds um —
head-first shtuck in th' bog — just th' tu feet av um
shtlckin' out an' which boots Tim sez he can swear tu.
'Begorrahl' sez me father, 'that accounts for th' tchune
shtoppin' so suddintl Let us luk for th' Jug?' Well,
they hunts around for th' Jug awhile, but all tuey finds
is his ould caubeen. So they shtuck that on wan of his
feet, an' Tim, he pins th' warrant av evictmint tu ut,
currsin' somethin' fierce th' whiles bekase he was done'
out av getthin' a shot at the 'ould rapparee wid th'
blundherbuss."

Slavin shook his head slowly at the conclusion of
the story. "Eyah!" he said wistfully, "raany's th'
toime have I heard me father tell that same tale.
They must have been shtirrin' times, thim!" In
characteristic fashion his mood suddenly changed.
His face hardened, as with upraised hand he silenced
the burst of laughter he had provoked from his
hearers. "Ginthlemen!" he resumed quietly, "we're
none av us cowards here, but — no need tu remind

iii;

244 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

yu' — fwhat sort av a man we are goin' up against
this night."

Unconsciously he drew himself up, with an air of
simple, rugged dignity that well became his grim visage
and powerful frame. In that hour of impending danger
the brave, true, kindly heart of the man stood revealed

— a personality which endeared him to Yorke and Red-
mond beyond any ties of friendship they had known.

Slowly he repeated, "we are none av us cowards here,
but — remimber Larry Blake, an' that pore hobo
shtlff back in th' shed there. An' remimber thim dogs
this mornin'. We du not want tu undherrate um.
We du not want tu cop ut like did Wilde, whin he
wint tu arrest Charcoal; or Colebrook, whin he tackled
Almighty Voice. Maybe he'll just come a-yawnin' tu
th' dhure, wid th' dhrawlin' English spache av um,
sayin' 'Well, bhoys, an' fwhat's doin'?' An' yet again

— may be he's all nerves afther th' bad break he made
in front av us this mornin' — expectin' us — eyah! —
waithin', watchin' belike, wid his gun in his fisht.
Luk at th' way he acted afther his gun play — leery
as hell. . . ."

"Yes!" said Yorke thoughtfully, "egad! there was
something darned queer in the way he acted, all right.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 24s
Guess we'd better take carbines along, eh, Burke?
m case we get let in for a man hunt. For all we know'
he may have beat it already. Another thing -he'
may start in bucking us about not having a warrant
— just to gain time?"

Slavin met the other's suggestion with a grim nod of
acqmescence. "Shure I we'll take thim," he said "but"
-his jaw set ruthlessly- "if I wanst get my grub-
hooks on urn . . . why! 'tis all up! -carbines, or
no cart: les- warrant or no warrant. Section thirty
ay th' Code cover, th> warrant bizness- i„ a case
like this, anyways. Come on, thin, bhoys, saddle up!
An Lanky! -yu give me a hand wid th' team' we
must begetthin'!"

Presently all was in readiness, and the small, well-
armed party left the detachment under the light of a
brilliant three-quarter moon. Slavin led in the police
buckboard, with the doctor seated beside him and
Lanky Jones crouched behind them. Yorke and Red-
mond rode in the rear, with their carbines slung at
the saddle-horn. It was a hazardous mission they
were bound on, as they all fully realized now, know-
mg the terribly ruthless character of the man they
sought to apprehend.

246 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Descending the grade which led to the bend of the
river they swung due east at a smart pace, following the
winding Lower Trail. This last road ran past Gully's
ranch, which lay some three miles distant. As they
neared their objective the sergeant slackened his team
down to a walking pace.

Suddenly Redmond tongue-clucked to himself in
absent fashion. The sound of it roused Yorke out of
the sombre reverie into which he had fallen.

"What's up. Red?" queried he waggishly, in a low
voice, "dreaming you're taking that dive again, or
what?"

"No!" muttered George abstractly in the same key.
"I was thinking what a rum, unfathomable old beggar
Slavin is. Fancy him springing that comical old yarn
at such a time as this?"

"Ah!" murmured his comrade reflectively. "When
you come to know Burke as well as I do you'll find
he's generally got some motive for these little things —
blarney and all. You laughed, didn't you? Guess
we all of us gave the giddy 'hal ha! ' Felt quite chipper
after it, too, the bunch of us . . . well then?"

"Sh-sh!" came the sergeant's back-flung, guarded
growl, "quit your gab there ! We're gettin' nigh, bhoys

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 247

-here's th' brush forninst his place . . . must go
mighty quiet an' careful now."

Looming up dark and forbidding ahead of them they
beheld the all-familiar sight of the huge, shadowy
thicket of pine and Balm o' Gilead clumps that fringed
th.. west end of Gully's ranch. Entering its gloomy
depths, they felt their way slowly and cautiously along
the stump-dotted trail. At intervals, from somewhere
overhead, came the weird, depressing hoot of a long-
eared owl, and, seemingly close at hand, the shrill
mocking "ki-yip.yapping» of coyotes echoed sharply
m the stillness of the night. Stray patches of moonlight
began to filter upon the party once more as they
gradually neared the end of the rough-hewn avenue-
the thick growth of pine giving place to scattered
cotton-wood clumps.

Arriving at the verge of the timber the party halted.
There, some two hundred yards distant, upon a patch
of open ground partially encircled by dense, willow-
scrub, lay a ghostly-shadowed cluster of ranch build-
ings. The living habitation itself stood upon a slightly
raised knoll, hard upon the river-bank. To the",
nostrils the night air brought the strong, not unpleasant
scent of catUe, drifting up from the numerous recum-

■li.

248 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

bent bovine forms which dotted the ground all around
the ranch.

Awhile the party gazed speculatively at the habita-
tion of him — the undoubted perpetrator of the deadly
deeds — for whom they had sought so long. The
peaceful aspect of their moonlit surroundings sud-
denly smote the minds n{ all with a strange sense
of unreality, as full realization of the sinister import
of their errand came home to them. In uncanny tel-
epathy with their disturbed feelings sounded the owl's
derisive hooting, and the persistent mocking raillery
of the coyotes.

It was Slavin who broke the long, tense silence.
"Damn that 'Dismal Jimmy' owl!" he ejaculated
testily, in a low tone — "an' thim ki-oots! . . . beg-
gars all seem to be givin' us th' ha! ha! as if they knew.
P'raps he has beat ut on us afther all? . . . 'Tis harrd
tu say — we cannot shpot a glim from this side-
winders all face east. Now! luk a-here, all av yez!"
He turned to his companions with a grim, determined
face, his deep-set eyes glittering ominously in the light
of the moon. "Let's get things cut-an'-dhried behfure
we shtart in," he whispered. "Whin he knows th'
jig's up — that's if he is in — he may act like a man av

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 249

sinse, an' agree tu come peaceable — but — " and
Slavin shook his head slowly — "if he refuses
fwhy? . . . 't'wud br straight suicide tu attimpi tu
rush ,am. There's on'y wan dhure. Hidin' in th'
dark there, wid that Luger gun av his coverin' ut
we d shtand no show at all. He'd put th' whole bunch
av us out av business -in as many shots, behfure a
man av us got a chance tu put fut inside. Now,
lets see!" he murmured reflectively. "Fwhat is th'
lay av th' shack agin? There's — "

"The door and two of the windows face ean" in-
terpolated Yorke, softly - "living-room and kitchen -
one wmdow to the south - that's his bed-room "

"Eyahl that's ut," whispered the sergeant, "now thin
- Lanky -du yu' shtay right here wid th' harses.
Kape yu're head - even if ye du hear shootin' Du
not shtir from here onless ye get o-.dhers from wan av
us. Tummg to the others he continued in a sibilant
hiss, "Yu, Reddy, shUp along th' edge av th' brush
here an' over th' river-bank onto th' shingle. Kape
well down an' thread careful ontil ye come fominst th'
back winder. Thin pop yu're head up circumshpict
an cover ut wid yu'rt carbine. Use good judgmint
tho ; none av us want tu shtart in shootin' onless we're

" 1

! ■ ^

■ i'

250 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

forced tu ut. Ondher th' circumstances 'tis best we
thry an' catch um alive."

For a moment Slavin stared after Redmond's crouch-
ing form, as his subordinate disappeared in the gloom.
"Thrust no harm comes tu th' lad," he muttered ir-
resolutely, "quick as a flash is th' bhoy wid his head,
eyah! but he's inclined tu be over rash at toimes."

"Oh, he's all right," hissed Yorke reassuringly,
"don't you get worrying over him making any bad
breaks, Burke. He's as fly as they make 'em."

Presently the sergeant faced round with a dreary
sigh. "Come on thin, Docthor," he murmured heavily,
"wid me an' Yorke."

Making a wide detour they circled the ranch and
wormed their way cautiously through the dense scrub
on its eastern side. Suddenly, with a warning gesture
to his companions, the sergeant halted. They had
reached the verge of the scrub and the front of the
ranch-house faced them — barely twenty jrards distant.
They could discern a faint light glimmering around the
lower edge of one of the windows.

"He is in!" whispered Slavin exultantly. "Blinds
down though. 'Tis a quare custom av his. Come on
thin, Yorkey, me bould second-in-command I In a

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 251
mighty few short minuts we shall know" — his jaw
dropped -"fwhat we shall knowl . . . Arrah thin
Docthorl»-he silenced a violent protest from that
adventurous gentleman, who made as though to accom-
pany them -"if ye wud help us in best fashion -
shtay right here, an' mark fwhat comes off. If we shud
happen tu get ut in th' neck . . . just yu' beat ut
back tu Lanky 1 Ye know fwhat tu du — thin. I'll
lave me carbine here awhile."

He stepped clear of the brush and, revolver in hand
advanced softly upon the low, one-story, log-built
dwelling. Yorke followed a few steps in his rear, with
his carbme held in readiness at the "port-arms."

Reaching the door, the sergeant rapped upon it
sharply. The- was no response from within, but —
the light vanished on the instant. Yorke stepped
wanly to the side and covered the door with his weapon
A few tense moments passed, and then Slavin rapped
agam. Heavy footfalls now sounded, approaching the
door from the inside, halted, and then, through the
panels came Gully's hollow, booming bass: "Who's
there?"

"Shlavin of th' Mounted Police, Gully. Opin up! we
wud shpake wid ye."

^.1

2S2 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"What do you want? What's your business at this
hour of the night?"

"Fwhat do we want?" — the sergeant uttered a
mirthless chuckle — "fwhy 'tis yu' we want, Gully —
for murdherl Come off th' perch, man, th' jig's upl
There's a bunch av us here — we've got yu're shack
covered properly — wid carbines — north, east, south,
an' west — ye can pull nothin' off. Come now! will
ye pitch up an' act reasonable? 'Tis no manner av
use ye shtartin' in tu buck th' Force. Juty's juty — ye
know that."

"Have you got a warrant, Sergeant?"

"Eyahl" came Slavin's sinister growl. "We've bin
fishin', Gully, up in th' big pool beyant. Well ye must
know that pool. Fwhat we caught there is our warrant.
Opin up now, will ye? else we bust yu're dhure in!"

"Slavin — Sergeant! You and Yorke whom I've
known all this time — good fellows" — the deep, im-
ploring tones faltered slightly — "do not push me to it,
man! You and your men go away and leave me in
peace this night. Christ knows! I don't want to do it
but — if you persist in forcing an entran in here
without a warrant — why! I'll pull on your ctowd till
there's not a man left"

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 253
"Gully!" tie sergeant's voice shook with passion It
the other's threat, "ye bloody murdherin' dogl Ye
dhirty back-av-th'-head gun-artistl Thryin' for
tu come th' 'good-feller' over us av th' Mountedl
Theres ony wan answer tu that, an' ye know ut
Now, will ye opin up this dhure, or I'll bust her
down!"

And, as if to enforce his command, Slavin set
h« huge shoulder against the door and gave a heave
which caused the stout wood to crack ominously

'Look out, Burkel" cried Yorke suddenly. His
right arm shot out and jerked the maddened Irishman
violently towards him. His hasty action was only
just in time. '

Bang! bang! Two muffled shots detonated within
and white splinters flew from a spot in the door covered
a moment before by the sergeant's broad breast With
a startled oath Slavin flung up his gun, as if to fire
back; but Yorke clutched his arm and arrested the
action.

♦K '!^r ^"^''" "^ '^^ """^^'y' "°° "«e doing
that ! You bet ke-s not there now. Lying 'doggo' be-
WBdthe Io«s. moM Kkely. You'd only blow a hole in
the door that k* could pick us off through after We're

2 54 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

proper marks in the moonlight here! Let's back up,
and keep the front covered."

Slavin, balked of his prey, nimbled in his throat
awhile, like some huge bear; then, adopting Yorke's
suggestion, he slowly backed up with the latter to the
sheltering brush, where they rejoined the expectant,
anxious doctor.

"Hit, either of you?" he enquired tersely.

Yorke replied in the negative. "Mighty close shave
for Burke here, though" he added, "lucky I heard
Gully cocking that blasted Luger of his." He uttered
a suppressed chuckle, "Burke's always one to go
cautioning others, and then lose his temper and ex-
pose himself."

For some few minutes they canvassed the situation
in tense whispers, lying prone in the brush with their
carbines covering their objective.

"Sh-shI" hissed the doctor suddenly. "Hark!"

With all their faculties on the stretch, they held
their breaths and listened intently. In the stillness
they heard the unmistakable noise as of a window
being cautiously lifted. The sound came from the
southern end of the building.

Then they heard Redmond's voice ring out sharply

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 255
from the bank: "No use, Gully! IVe got you coveredl
You can't make it from there 1 You'd better give in,
man."

There was an instant's silence, then — crack! came
the crisp report of the Luger. It was answered by the
deep, reverberating bang! of a carbine, and the crash
of splintered glass and woodwork was followed by a
boyish laugh.

"Told you Reddy was there with the goods!" re-
marked Yorke, triumphantly, to his superior, "don't
suppose he got him though — Gully's too fly — he'd
duck into shelter the instant he'd fired. I'll bet he's
doing some tall thinking just now. Beggar's between
the devil and the deep sea — properly. He'll chuck up
the sponge just now, you'll see."

"Eyah!" agreed Slavin, with an oath, "he's up
against it. But Reddy down there — I du not like th'
idea av th' bhoy bein' all alone. Yorkey, yu' shlink
thru' th' brush an' down th' bank an' kape um company
awhile. Th' Docthor an' me'Il kape th' f ,nt here
covered."

A few minutes later, Yorke, after first challenging
Redmond cautiously, crept up beside his comrade below
the sheltering river-bank.

riiii-

256 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
"Did you get him?" he queried in a tense whisper.
"No, I don't think so," muttered Redmond disconso-
lately, "but — he d d near got me — look!"

He exhibited his Stetson hat. A dean bullet per-
foration showed in the pincbed-up top. "I could have
got him — easy," he added, "when he first opened the
window. Wish I had, now — but you know what
Burke said — about getting him alive — I only loosed
off after he'd thrown down on me. I was scared for
you and Burke, though I I could see you both backing
up — after he'd shot through the door."

Bang! A dull, muffled report detonated within the

building. The ominous echoes gradually died away,

and the stillnt^s of the night settled over all once more.

TTie crouching policemen stared at each other

strangely. "Hear that?" ejaculated Redmond, with a

startled oath, "By G d! he's shot himself! must

have — it sounded muffled. ... All over I 111 bet
his brains — "

He broke off short and, shoving the barrel of his
carbine over the edge of the bank, he commenced to
clamber up. "Wait a second! . . . Good God, Red!
don't do that!" snarled Yorke wamingly. "He's as
cunning as a blasted lobo. May be it's only a tr — "

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 157

The entreaty died in his thr.;,. Crackl A spurt
of flame shot from the opened wiauow, and Redmond
with a gasping exclamation of rage and pain, toppled
backwards onto the shingle, his carbine clattering
dowt, beside him. Fearful of relaxing his vigilance e;en
at thjs crisis, the maddened Yorke flung up his weapon
and sent shot afar shot crashin.? through the open
casement. All could ho.r the sm. .l.ing, rending sounds
of havoc his buikis were ci .-ating within.

"Doctorl" he shouted. "Oh, noctorl Come on
round quickl" In a hoarse aside he spat out fever-
ishly,"Red!Red!myoldson! . . . hit bad? Where'd
you get it?"

"Shoulder! Oh-h!" gasped poor Redmond, mcr, ,-
mg and rolling on the shingle in his agony, "Oh, Cl.risi
it hurts!"

There came a crashing in the undergrowth on theu-
right, and presently a crouching form came creeping
rapidly towards them under cover of the sheltering
bank. In a terse aside Yorke acviuainted the doctor
with the details of his comrade's mischance, keeping
a wary eye meanwhile on the window. The ex-naval
surgeon wasted no time in unnecessary question or
comment, but mth the grim composure of an old cam-

' 'i

1 i

258 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

paigner swiftly proceeded to render first aid to the
wounded man.

"Right shoulder — low down!" he presently vouch-
safed to the anxious Yorke. "Trust it's missed the
lung! . . . can't tell yet! ... I must get him away
the best way I can. No! . . . don't move, Yorke!
You keep on your mark! I can pack him I think.
I'll get him to the buckboard somehow. This is going
to be a long siege, I'm thinking. You'll be getting
reinforcements later. Slavin told me to send for them."

Bang! crash! The crisp sounds of splintering wood-
work on the east side of the shack denoted the fact of
their quarry apparently attempting a second escape
from the front entrance. : aided, the doctor cleverly
executed the professional fire-fighter's trick of raising,
balancing on the back, and carrying an unconscious
human body. With an overwhelming feeling of relief,
not unmixed with admiration, at the other's gameness,
Yorke watched him stagger away in the gloom, bearing
poor George upon his bowed shoulders.

His momentary lack of vigilance proved well-nigh
his own undoing, also. Crack! spat the Luger again
from the window. His hat whirled from his head,
but he kept his presence of mind. It was not the first

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 259

time by many that Yorke had been under fire. Duck-
ing down on the instant, he moved swiftly three paces
to his right, and then, finger on trigger, he suddenly
jerked upright and sent two more shots crashing
through the aperture.

"Mark-erl" he called out mockingly. "Signal a
miss, mark-er! Ding-dong! You'll get tired of it be-
fore we do, Gully! You'd better give up the ghost,
man!"

His grim sarcasm failing to draw further fire from
his desperate opponent, the senior constable reloaded
wearily and settled down to what promised to be a
long, danger-fraught vigil.

CHAPTER XIV

Ht "wau out," poor Cm, at the break o' day —
Ohl — kis kmdly ways, and his ckeery face!
But . . . the Lord gave, attd hath taken away,
Bark I sounds "The Last Post," Reguiescat m Facet

"the last post"

SLOWLY the nig^t dragged through for the two
grim, haKs*^ sesitioels. Thrice during their
vigil had tbeir desperate quarry exercised his
marksmanship upon them with his deadly Luger.
Seemingly only by a miracle did they escape
each time. The sergeant had his hat perforated
in similar fashion to his companions. Yorke had a
shoulder-strap torn from his stable-jacket. Adroitly
shifting their positions each time he fired, they greeted
his shots with such withering blasts of carbine fire
that they finally silenced their enemy's battery.
Throughout he had remained as mute as a trapped wolf.
Only an occasional cough indicated that so far,
apparently, he was unharmed and, like them, still
grimly on the alert.

260

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 261

Relief came to the two besiegers with the first
streaJis of dawn. Dr. Cox, with aiaiost superhuman
efforts, had somehow managed to reach Lanlty Jones
and the backboard with the wounded Redmond.
Swiftly conveying the latter back to the detachment,
the ph)rsician had immediately got in touch with the
night-operator at the station, and also MacDavid.

And now, guided by that old pioneer, Inspector
Kilbride arrived upon the scene with an armed party
from the Post. They had been rushed up by a special
train, which had been flagged by MacDavid at the
nearest objective point to Gully's ranch.

Swiftly and warily they skirmished towards their
objective. Half of the party, under a sergeant, crept
along below the shelterim; river bank where they soon
joined the wearied, but still vigilant, Yorke. The
rest, under the inspector, making a wide detour of the
ranch, gained the brush on its eastern side. /\mong
this last party were Hardy, McSpornm and
McCullough. In extended order they glided through
the thick scrub and, reaching its fringe, flung them-
selves prone with their carbines held in readiness.

The inspector gradually wormed himself up beside
Slavin who, in a few tense whispers, acquainted his

: :

262 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
superior with all details of the situation. Full well,
both men realized what a perilous spot it was, for all
concerned, on the eastern front of the shack. Straining
their eyes in the gray, ghostly gloom they could just
discern an open casement. Apparently it was from
this well-sheltered embrasure that Gully had pre-
viously attempted to pick off Slavin. With the coming
of daylight their position would be absolutely untenable
in the face of further fire from the enemy. On the
other hand, if they retreated further into the scrub
they would lose sight of their objective altogether.

So much Kilbride intimated to the sergeant as they
held whispered consultation. Also, he imparted re-
assuring news anent Redmond. The latter's injury,
though serious, was not a mortal hurt, according to a
report from MacDavid, who had left the doctor watch-
ing his patient closely at the detachment.

Suddenly, a few paces to the ri^t of where they lay,
came the sound of one of the party stealthily clearing
his throat. Poor fellow: his momentary lack of
caution proved to be his death warrant.

Crack! A spurt of flame leapt from the velvety-
black square of casement. The horrid, imforgetable
cry of a man wounded ante death echoed the shot,

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 263

and the startled besiegers could bear their comrade
threshing around amora^st the dead leaves in his agony.

"Steady, men! steady now! don't expose your-
selves!" yelled the inspector. "Fire at that window,
while I get to this man! — keep me covered!"

His commands were eagerly ot^yed Sheltered by
the roaring, burst of carbint fire he wrigj^ sideways
in feverish baste and evenmally gaineid tit*- stricken
man. The latter i convulsiv- thrwhing of limlK ba4
ceased and an instant's examination convinced tfe in-
spector that Gully's random shot had been fatal.

For awhile the besiegers poured in brisk voltey»
upon the door and windows, until the inspectiy »v«
the command to "Cease Fire'" Suddenly mock-
ingly — hard upon the last shot, the echoes of which
had barely died away, came a^in the vicious, whip-
like cracK rf the Luger; this time from the southern
end of the sfcack. The long-drawn, nerve-shattering
scream of the first casualty was duplir-;Ued, and a
carbine volley crashed from the river bank.

Then up from the attacking party swelled an ex-
ceeding bitter, angry cry; the grim, deadly exaspera-
tion of men goaded to the point of recklessly attempting
ruthless reprisal upon their hidden enemy. With a

*!t

264 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

total disregard of personal safety many of them sprang
up out of cover, as if to charge upon their hated
objective. '

"As you werel Back, men I backl" rang out the
deep, imperious voice of Kilbride. The stern command
checked the onrush of maddened men. "D'you hear
me?" he thundered, "Take cover again immediately —
everyone. . . . I'll give the word when to rush him,
and that's not yet."

It said much for the discipline of the Force that
his commands were obeyed, albeit in somewhat muti-
nous fashion. The inspector turned to Slavin with fell
eyes. "Christ!" he said, "there's two men gone! I
won't chance any more lives in this fashion! I'll give
him ten minutes to surrender and if he don't give up
the ghost then. . . . I'll do what an emergency like
this calls for — what I came prepared to do, if neces-
sary. Sergeant! take charge of this side until further
orders; I'm going down the bank to the other party
afl*ile."

He stole away through the brush and presently they
all heard his stentorian tones ring out from the river
bank. "Gully! oh, Gully! It's Inspector Kilbride
speaking. I'll give you ten minutes to come out and

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 265
give yourself up. If you don't — well 1 . . . I've got
a charge of dynamite here ... and a fuse, and I'll
blow you and your shack to hell, my man. It's up to
you — now!"

There was no response to the inspector's ultimatum.
Ai»dst dead silence the prescribed time slowly passed.
Fifteen minutes — then, a gasping murmur of excite-
ment arose from those on the eastern front, as in the
rapidly whitening dawn they saw Kilbride suddenly
reappear around the northern and blank end of the
buflding. For some few moments they watched his
actions in awestruck, breathless silence as, with bent
back, he busied himself with his dangerous task.

Presently he straightened up. "Now! Look o«it,
everybody!" he bawled. He struck a match and
applied it to something that immediately began to
splutter, and then he retreated a safe distance north-
ward. All eyes were glued, as if fascinated, to the
deadly, sputtering fuse. Soon came the dull, mufSed
roar of an explosion. The walls of the building sagged
outwards, the roof caved in, and the whole structure
seemed to coll^we Uke a pack of cards, amW x cloud
of dust.

For some few seconds the party gazed fearfully at the

2 66 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"i li

work of destruction; then a k>wd cheer went up, and
with one accord all dashed forward, filled with eager,
morbid curiosity as to what they might find buried
beneath the ruins.

^ 'ddenly, midway between the brush and their ob-
\ tive they checked theii onrush and halted, staring
i 1 speechless amascment. Pushing his way up,
apparently from some hole beneath a pile of debris,
appeared the figure of a huge man.

In their excitement the attackers had overlooked the
possibility of a cellar existing below the stone founda-
tion of the dwelling. At this juncture the party from
the river bank was rapidly approaching the ruins from
its western side. The posse was in a dilemma. Neither
party dare fire at its quarry between them for fear of
hitting each other.

Gully apparently either did not realize the situation
or did not care. With face convulsed v. ith passion, be-
yond all semblance to a human being, he crouched and
rushed the party on the eastern side of his wrecked
home, firing as he came. Badly hit, several of his
assailants were speedily hor de combat, among them.
Hardy and McCullough. The whole incident happened
in quicker time than it takes to relate.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 267
Then, from out the startled crowd there sprang a
man. It was Slavin. His hour had come. There
was something appalling in the spectacle of the two
gigantic men rushing thus upon each other. Suddenly,
Gully tripped over a log and fell headlong, his deadly
gun flying from his grasp. With a sort of uncanny,
cat-like agility he scrambled to his feet and strove to
recover his weapon. He was a fraction of a second too
late. A kick from Slavin sent it whirling several yards
away, and the next moment the opponents were upon
each other.

At the first onslaught the issue of the combat seemed
doubtful. The ex-sheriff was no wrestler like Slavin,
but he speedily demonstrated that he was a boxer, as
well as a gun-man. Cleverly eluding the grasp of his
powerful assailant for the moment, twice he rocked
Slavin's head back with fearful left anrl right swings
to the jaw. With a bestial rumbling in his throat, the
sergeant countered with a pile-driving punch to the
other's heart; then, ducking his head to avoid further
punishment, he grappled with the murderer Roaring
inarticulately in their Berserker rage, the pair
bore a closer resemblance to a bear and a gorilla than
men.

,h*

268 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Once in that terrible grip, however, Gully, big and
powerful man though he was, had not the slightest
chance with a wrestler of Slavin's ability. Shifting
rapidly from one cruel hold to another the huge Irish-
man presently whirled his antagonist up over his hip
and sent him crashing to the ground, face downwards.
Then, kneeling upon the neck of his struggling and
blaspheming victim, he held him down until handcuffs
finally imprisoned the enormous wrists, and leg-irons
the ankles.

,'1
I

The grim, long-protracted duel was over at last.
But at lamentable cost. Two men killed outright, and
five badly wounded had been the deadly toll exacted
by Gully in his last, desperate stand.

The rays of the early morning shone upon a strange
and solemn scene. Gully, guarded by two constables,
was seated upon the stone foundation that marked the
site of his wrecked dwelling. Head in hands, sunk in
a sort of stupor, his attitude portrayed that of a man
from whom all earthly hope had fled. Some distance
away lay the wounded men, being roughly, but sym-
I)athetically attended to by their comrades. All were
awaiting now the arrival of the coroner, and also the

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 269

means of transportation which the inspector had
ordered MacDavid to requisition for them.

Presently came those who reverently bore the dead
upon hastily-constructed stretchers. SilenUy Inspec-
tor Kilbride indicated a spot near the fringe of brush-
and there, side by side, they laid them down, covering
the bodies with a blanlcet dragged from the debris of
the shattered dwelling.

Bare-headed, the rest cf the party gathered around
their officer. Long and .adly Kilbride gazed down
upon the still forms outlined under their covering
Twice he essayed to speak, but each time his voice
failed him.

"Menl" he said at last huskily, as if to himself.
"Men! is this what i have brought you into? Is

this — "

He choked, and was silent awhile; then; "Ohl"
cried he suddenly, "God knows 1 . . . under' the cir-
cumstances I used the best judgment I — "

But Slavin broke in and laid a tremulous hand on
his superior's shoulder. "Nol no! Sorr! . . . hush!
for th> love av Christ! ... Ye must not — " the
soft Hibernian brogue sank to a gentle hush — "niver
fear . . . for thim that's died doin' their juty!

Miaroconr tEsoiurioN test chait

(ANSI end ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

\Si

■ 2.2

■^

:£

y£

Kl^l^

_^ /APPLIED IIVHGE Ine

SS ". 1653 East Main Street

S*,.S Rochester, New rork U609 USA

r^S (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

^^ (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax

'i:l

270 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

'Tis th' Peace, Sorr — th' Peace everlastin' . . - now,
for Hornsby an' Wade. They were good men. . . ."

Yorke bent down and, drawing back a fold of the
blanket, exposed two still white faces. In the centre
of Hornsby's forehead all beheld Gully's terrible sign-
manual. Wade had been shot through the throat.

"Hornsby!" gasped Yorke brokenly, "poor old Gus
Hornsby!" ... He turned a tired, drawn face up to
Slavin's. "He was with us in the Yukon, Burke.
Remember how we used to rag him when he first came
to us as a cheechaco buck? But the poor beggar never
used to get sore over it . . . always seemed
sort of . . . patient . . . and happy ... no matter
how we joshed him. . . ."

Gently he replaced the blanket, stared stupidly a
moment at the grim, haggard face of his sergeant, then
he burst out crying and wandered away from the sad
scene.

1!'!

i i
1 :

CHAPTER XV

That very night, whUe gentle sleep

The people's eyelids kiss'd,
Two stem-faced men set out from Lynn,

Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walk'd between, '

With gyves upon his wrist.

"the DKEAM of EUOENE ARAM"

SLOWLY the memorable June day had drawn to a
close, and now darkness had set in and the moon
shone brightly down upon the old detachment of
Davidsburg. It had been a strenuous day for Inspector
Kilbride and his subordinates, as many details of the
eventful case had to be arranged ere they could leave
with their prisoner on the night's train for the Post.

The inspector's first care, naturally, had been the
slow and careful conveyance of the wounded men
(Redmond included )- and the dead -down to the
special train which still awaited them on the Davids-
burg siding. The bulk of the party departed with
them, the officer retaining Slavin, Yorke, and McSpor-
ran. A coroner's inquest, held that afternoon upon the

»7J

tji.'.

,11

E|i

272 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

remains of the unfortunate hobo, Drinkwater, had re-
sulted in a verdict of "wilful murder" being returned
against Ruthven Gully. Two days later, at the Post,
similar verdicts were rendered in the cases of poor
Homsby and Wade.

Throughout the day Gully had remained in a sort of
sullen, brooding stupor. But now, with the coming of
night, he seemed to grow restless — pacing within the
narrow confines of his cell like unto a trapped wolf,
his leg-shackles clanking at every turn. Seated out-
side the barred door, McSporran maintained a close
and vigilant guard. It wanted four hours yet until
train time and inside the living-room the inspector,
Slavin, and Yorke were beguiling the interval in low-
voiced conversation.

"Strange thing. Sergeant," remarked Kilbride
musingly, "I can't place him now, but I'll swear I've
seen this man. Gully, before; somewhere back of
beyond, I guess. I've been in some queer holes and
comers on this globe in my time — long before I
ever took on the Force. Seems he has, too, from what
you and Yorke have told me. D— — d strangel . . .
I've got a fairly good memory for faces but — "

He broke off and looked enquiringly at McSporran,

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 273

who had siienUy entered just then. "What is it
McSporran?" '

J'GulIy, Sirr!" responded the constable, saluting
He wad wish tu speak wi' ye, Sirr."
The inspector's face hardened, and his steely eyes
glittered strangely as he heard the news. For a brief
space he remained, chin in hand, in deep thought- then
nsmg he sauntered slowly over to the prisoner's cell.'
What is it you want, Gully?" he said quietly
"Kilbride -Inspector!" came the great rumbling
bass through the bars. "If you keep me cooped up in
this pen much longer . . . I tell you! you'll

have me slinging loose in the head - altogether » " He
uttered a mirthless, wolf-like bark of a laugh "My
ears are keener than your me-v,ory-l heard you
speaking just now. Listen! - a curiously wistful
note crept into his deep tones, for the inspector had
made an angry, impatient gesture - "Listen, Kilbridel
• • . I'm gone up -I know it - therefore, if I sing
my 'swan song' now or later, it can matter little one
way or the other; and I would rather sing it to you
and Slavin and Yorke there than to anyone else. Be-
fore I am through, you all may -shall we say-
p'raps judge me a trifle less harshly than you do now

2 74 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Regard this as . . . practically the last request of a
man who is as good as dying . . . that — I be allowed
to sit amongst you once more . . . and talk, and talk,
and ta — "

His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished.
For some few seconds the -.••^ector remained motion-
less, with bent head, just looking — and looking — in
deep, reflective silence at the doomed man who im-
portuned him.

"Am I to understand that you wish to make a state-
ment. Gully?" he said, in even, passionless tones.
"Remember! — you've been charged and warned,
man — whatever you say'll be used in evidence against
you at your trial."

The other, hesitating a moment, swallowed ner-
vously in his agitation.

"Yes," he said huskily, "I know — but that's all
right! ... As I said before — it can make little or
no difference ... in my case. . . ."

Turning, Kilbride silently motioned to McSporran to
unlock the cell-door.

The huge manacled prisoner emerged, and shuffled
awkwardly towards the inner room, closely attended
by his armed escort.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 275
Slavin and Yorke, seated together at one end of the
table, arose as Gully entered. Standing curiously stiH
as .f carved in stone, their bitter eyes alone bet^
the.r emotions, silently they gazed at the huge glun"
-kempt figure that came shambling towaf^ Tem
Gully halted and stared long and fixedly at the
relentless aces of the two men whose grim, dogged vigi!
lance had ,ed to his undoing. Over his iL^^JZ

hj^ard^face there swept the peculiar ruthless S
which they knew so well; and he raised his manacled
hands m a semblance of a salute

"^orituri te salutantr he muttered in his harsh
growhng bass - the speech nevertheless of an educid

"Eh, fwhat?" queried Slavin vaguely. The classical
a«us.on was lost on him, but Kilbride and Yokfet
changed a grim, meaning smile as they recalled Z
ancient formula of the Roman arena McS^r.^„
P^hed forward a chair, into which Gully dr^^.^
heav ly. Chm cupped in hands, and elbows resting^
knees he remamed for a space in an attitude of pro-
^ound thougr^ The inspector, resuming his chair at
the table, motioned his subordinates to be seated anH
reached forward for some writing matertls '

11!

'ti-

ill

276 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"All right, now, Gully! " he began, in a hard, metallic
tone. "What is it you wish to say ?" All waited expectantly.

Apparently with an effort Gully roused himself out
of the deep reverie into which he had sunk, and for a
space he gazed with blood-shot eyes into tha calm,
stem face of his questioner. Then, with a sort of
dreamy sighing ejaculation, he roused himself and,
leaning back in his chair, began the following remark-
able story. He spoke in a recklessly earnest manner
and with a sort of deadly composure that startled and
impressed his hearers in no little degree.

"Listen, Inspector," he said. "A good deal of the
story I'm going to tell you has no bearing on the —
the — the — case in hand. There's no use in you
taking all this down. I understand procedure" — he
smiled wanly — "therefore, with your permission I'll
go ahead, and you can construct a brief statement on
your own lines afterwards, which I will sign."

Kilbride bowed his head in assent to the other's
request.

"The name I bear now," began the prisoner,—
" 'Ruthven Gully' — is my real name, though knocking
around the world like I've been since I was a kid of
sixteen, and the many queer propositions I've b^tn up

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 277

against in my time, why -I've found it expedient to
use various aliases.

"For instance" -he eyed the inspector keenly -
"I wasn't known as 'Gully' that time Cronje nailed us
all at Doornkop, Kilbride, in 'ninety-six. . . ."

Kilbride uttered a startled oath. Shaken out of his
habitual stem composure he stared at the man before
him in sheer amazement. "Good God ! " he cried, "The
'Jameson Raid!' ... Now I know you, man! -you're
-you're -wait a bit! I've got it on the tip of my
tongue — Mor-Mor — Mordaunt, by gad! . . .
that's what you called yourself then. Ever since I sat
with you on that case I've been turning it over in
my head where in ever I'd fore-gathered with you
before. It was your moustache which fooled me —
you were clean-shaven then. . . Well, Well! ."
He was silent awhile, overcome by the discovery.
"Aye!" he resumed in an altered voice, "I've got good
cause to remember you, Mor - Gully, I mean. You
certainly saved my life that day . . . when we were
lying in that donga together. I was hit pretty bad,
and you stood 'em off. You were a wonderful shot, I
recollect. I saw you flop out six Doppers — one after
the other."

1 1I

Mi ! '

278 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he said quietly,
"You'd better leave the leg-irons on, but remove his
handcuffs — for the timi -being, anyway. . . ." He
addressed himself to the prisoner with a sort of sad
sternness. "It's little I can do for you now, Gully . . .
but I can do that, at least. . . ."

Slavin complied with his officer's request. Gully's
huge chest heaved once, and he bowed his h'-ad in
silent acknowledgment of Kilbride's act of leniency.

"All right! go ahe:d. Gully!" said the latter.

The prisoner took up his tale anew. "As I was say-
ing — I left the Old Country when I was sbtteen. No
need to drag in family troubles, but . . . that's
why. . . . Well! I hit for the States. Montana for a
start off, and it sure was a tough state in 'seventy-four,
I can tell you. That's where I first learned to handle a
gun. I knocked around between there and Wyoming
and Arizona for about nine years, and during that time
I guess I tackled nearly every kind of job under the
sun, but I punched and rode for range outfits mostly.

"Then I was struck with a fancy to see the South,
and I drifted to Virginia. I'd been there about two
years, working as an overseer on a tobacco plantation,
when I got a letter from our family's solicitor recalling

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 279

me home. My eldest brother had died, and the estate
had passed on to me. Where. Inspector? — why, it
was at Castle Brompton, a quiet little country town in
Worcestershire.

"WeJlI I'd had a pretty rough training — living the
life of a roustabout for so many years, and I guess I
kind of ran amuck when I struck home. I played
ducks and drakes with the estate, and the end of it was
... I got heavily involved in debt. There seemed
nothing ior it but to up-anchor, and to sea again in
my shirt. .So, my fancy next took me to Shanghai,
where I obtained a poorly-paid Civil Service job —
in the Customs. I stuck that for about a year, and
then I pulled out — disgusted. The next place I
landed up in was, if anything, worse — the Gold Coast.
From there I .'rifted to the Belgian Congo. I was
there for nearly two years doing — well! perhaps it's
best for me not to enter into details — we'll call it
'rubber.' It's a cruel country that — one that a man
doesn't exactly stay in for his health, inyway; for a
bad dcse of fever nearly fixed me. It made me fed up
with the climate and — the life. So I pulled out of
it and went down country > the Transvaal. That's
how I came to get mixed up in 'The R^jd,' Inspector.

' r:

j8o the luck of the MOUNTED

I was in Jo'burg at the time it was framed up, so I
threw in my lot with the rest of you.

"Suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to go back
to the States and the range life again. I was properly
fed up with Africa. So — back I went there — to
Montana again. I punched for one or two cow-outfits
awhile, and then came a time when a deputation of
citizens came and put it up to me if I'd take on the

office of Deputy-Sheriff for County, where I

happened to be working. I suppose the fact of my
being a little more handy with a gun than most had
impressed some of them. Things were running wild
there just then, and for awhile I tell you, I was up
against a rather dirty proposition. I and my guns
certainly worked overtime for a stretch, till I got
matters more or less ship-shape. I had the backing of
the best people in the community luckily, and even-
tually I won out.

"Then — when the inevitable reaction set in with
the peaceable times that followed, somehow I managed
to get in bad with some of them. They had no more
use for me or my guns. I was like a fish out of water.
I decided to pull out, for a strange hankering to see
England .\nd my old home again came over me. So I

THE LUCK OF THE MO"x\TED -Si
cX "'';'''' '-' '^^'^ "-^^ to the Old

h^fn •'^'v "^'"^ '" •"' """'''''' ^""y dropped his

Snl'\ H ?'' '"' '"""''^ "~"'y ^"•'"^ "- ^o"-
fnuing haltingly: "It was the mistak of my life-

ever going back - to a civilized country. For a time I
strove to conduct myself as a law-abiding British citi-
zen -to conform to the ne order of things, but-
I had been amongst the rough stuff too long I
was out of my sphere entirely.

"One day, in a hotel at Leeds, I got ir*o a violent
quarrel wath a man - fellow of the name Hammond.
It was over a woman. He insulted me -in front of
a crowd of men at that -and finally he struck me
Hitherto I'd taken no oack-down from any man living,
and I guess I forgot myself then and kind of ran
amuck - fancied I was back in Montana again. Conse-
quence was -I threw down on him in front of this
crowd and shot him dead.

"Of course I was arrested and charged with murder
in the first degree; but as it was adduced at my trial
that I'd received a certain amount of provocation I
was sent down for fifteen years. I'd done little over
SIX months of my time in Barmsworth Prison when I

282 -THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

and two of my fellow convicts framed up a scheme
to escape. It takes too long to go into details how we
worked it. I made my get-away, though I had to
abolish a poor devil of a warder in doing so. The other
two lost out. One got shot and the other was caught
some days later — as I read in the papers.

"Well! I managed to reach the States again, and
eventually came over this side of the line. As I had
been convicted and sentenced under the alias which
I had adopted while in England — my real name never
coming out — I resumed my name of Gully again when
I settled down here. My relatives, what few I possess,
hav2 never known of my conviction and imprisonment.
All the time I was in England on my second trip I
was clean-shaven, but on returning to the States I let
my moustache grow once more. As you said, Kilbride
— it is a very effectual disguise. Will one of you give
me a drink, please? My mouth's pretty dry with all
this talking."

Yorke got up and brought him a glass of water, and
he drank it down with a murmur of thanks.

"Now! " he said, continuing his narrative: "I'm com-
ing to the worst part of all. You'll all wonder I've not
gone mad — brooding; but I've got to go through with

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 283

it. When I settled down here I honestly did struggle
hard to live down my past and start afresh with a
clean sheet. I borrowed some money from an old ex-
sheriff friend of mine in Montana - which loan by the
way, I have paid all back - every cent - and bought"
-he gazed gloomily at Kilbride - "what was my
home. But somehow . . . Fate seems to have dogged
m- ... tnpped me up in the end. Until last January
ev, > .^mg was going well with me. As Slavin and
Yo.ke here can testify ... I was conducting myself
fairly and squarely with all men.

"Then -one day Yorke brought that Blake and
Moran case up in front of me. Both of these men I'd
met before, but they didn't recognize me again -not
absolutely. I usually contrived to keep pretty clear
of them for reasons which will appear obvious later
I'm coming to that. Moran I recognised as a former
Montana tough who used to hang around Havre -
bronco-buster, cow-puncher, and tin-horn by turns
Many a time I've caught him sizing me up, in Cow
Run and elsewhere - mighty hard, too, but he never
seemed to be sure of me. Once he did chance a feeler
but I just twirled my moustache, k la Lord Tomnoddy'
and bluffed him to a finish, '

m }

284 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Larry Blake" — a ruthless gleam flickered momen-
tarily in Gully's deep-set, shadowy eyes — "Larry
Blake, I recognized as the son of the Governor of
Barmsworth Prison — old Gavin Blake. Sometimes this
young fellow used to come aroimd with his father,
when the old gentleman was making his daily tour of
inspection. I well remember the first time I sa-y him
— young Larry. I was chipping stone in the quarry,
amongst a gang, with a ball and chain on. I'd been in
about two months then. The Governor was showing
some visitors around, and his son was with him. They
were staring at us like people do at wild animals in
a show. I was pointed out to them, and my recent
crime mentioned. I remember young Blake eying me
with especial interest. He came out to Canada and hit
these parts about two years after I'd located here.

"Well! now and again when we'd run across each
other I'd find him looking at me in a queer, vague
fashion, too; but I felt safe enough with him, like I
did with Moran — until this case came up. After it was
over, he and I happened to be alone, and, in a round-
about way, he began asking me questions. He did it
so climisily, though, that my suspicions were aroused at
once. Of course I bluffed him — or thought I had —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 285

tte Post Office getting n,y mail when, amongst a bunch
o letters on the counter I saw one addressed to "Gavin
Blake, Esq, Governor of Barmsworth Prison. Eng-
and." OM Kelly, the postmaster, having hi bacl

Zt. "":; '""''''« ^'"""'^ ^^ pigeon-holes,
promptly annexed this letter and slipped it into my

YoTbV/''"'" '■* "P "^ ^'"P'"*'"^ -- verified.

a Zn ^ r'' *° "'^ '^*^^ *^' '^^''^ -- across
a man whom he could almost swear to as being one of
^e three convicts who'd broken out of Bar^swor^

Te in r '"^'- .!''' ^""^ ^"^^ ^»^P^ ^^'<^ better
tak m the case - if the original warrant issued for me
^uld be orwarded to the Mounted Police, and so on.
He said h.s mtentions were to try and gain furthe

about h.s suspicions until he received definite instruc
tions what steps to take.

"I guess the devil must have got a good grin on m.
a^-nafterr^readthatletter. 'it seeml7use t^!

Sake T'"- ""' ^' "^^ °"*^'<^-« '"^e yo-g
Blake making it their business to butt in and lay one

by the heels. Anyway, like Satan at prayers, I L't

286 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

feel like being coolly sacrificed when my years of honest
effort were drawing near their reward in the shape
of a fairly prosperous ranch — just at the whim of a
lazy, profligate young busy-body.

"From that hour Larry Blake was practically —
'gone up.' I'd deliberately made up my mind to put
him out of business on the first convenient opportunity
that presented itself. That opportunity came on the
night he was fighting with Moran in the hotel. I
thought I could kill two birds with one stone. I'll
admit it was a devilish idea, but I was desperate. Of
course things didn't shape out as I'd planned —
Moran's alibi for instance, or that hobo, Drinkwater.

"I know to you it will only appear sheer nonsense on
my part ever to start in attempting to justify my — my
abolishment of him. But this — what I am going to
tell you — is the absolute truth of what happened. In
the first place — when he spotted me bringing Moran's
horse into the stable that night — although I was mad
and man-handled the pior devil at the time — I felt
fairly easy in my mind later, thinking he would drift
out of town next day, after the manner of his kind.
But when he was brought up in front of me afterwards,
I realized the serious predicament I was in."

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 287
He turned to Slavin. "Sergeant!" he went on: "I'l,
admu I was feeling pretty queer when you were ex
— g that man-especially about the smelling of
dnnk business. Pd slipped him a snort of Sey
after you'd gone down to Doctor Cox's to ,T^,
papers s.gned. I told him to keep his mout^ shuti
he wa. .oned about any horse or man - and tha
Id get h.m off if he obeyed my instructions O
course he didn't know what all this was for. He had
no opportunity of knowing- never did know, though
I fancy he thought it was a case of horse.;tealing
^yway, my promises and the drink made him my ally
at once On,y human nature for him to side with
me agamst the Police. As you know, Sergeant you
can get n.ore definite resulu from that cla s of mL

^'t:etSd'^^^^'^-^-"^^------e:

"My original intention in taking him out to my

h.m adnft westward,, and so out of things. But after
we got home and I put the proposition up to him, Z
beggar began to assert himself and get bold and saucy

threatening he>d go and tell you everything if I didn't

< II I
r

III

288 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

come across, and all that. Finally I lost my temper
with him and gave him a good slap across the face.
He happened to be outside the house bucking wood at
the time, and, when I hit him, he came for me with
the axe. I only jumped back just in time, as he
struck. I threw down on him and put him out of
business right-away then, realizing 1 was up against
it."

Gully halted for a space and leaned his head in his
bands. "Gcd!" he muttered presently, "what nights
I've had! I've killed many men in my time, but those
two — I hated framing up all that business on
you fellows next day — those tracks and the bill-
folder, and all that useless chasing for a week, but it
seemed to me to be the only plausible bluff I could
run on you, under the circumstances. Not".', are there
any more things you don't understand? Any ques-
tions you'd like to ask me?"

"Yesl" queried Sia^-in. "How did you get to Cal-
gary that night — after you'd missed the nine-thirty
eastbound. Jump a freight, or what? You were
seen to get on the train. ..."

"I know that," said Gully slowly, "I did it for a
blind. I walked through the coarbes and slipped out

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 289

again at the far end of the platfonn-ln the dark
No! I didn't jump a freight, Sergeant. I was tempted
to, but on second thoughts the idea made me feel kind
of uneasy. Perhaps you'll be dubious of this, but as
a .act, I took a 'tie-pass' - walked it all the way to
Calgary on the track. I was about done when I made
Shagnappi Point, beating my passage through all that
snow. I bought a new pair of cow-puncher's boots
while I was in town. You remember I was wearing
them when I returned. I had the overshoes wrapped
up as a parcel and packed them back to the ranch and
burnt them — and Drinkv ..ter's boots."

"How about that Savage automatic?" said Yorke
"the one you shot those dogs with yesterday? We've
got your Luger, but where's the Savage gun?"

"Oh, yesi" replied Gully wearily, "of course I had
two guns. I never used to pack the Luger around -
afterwards, well I ... for obvious reasons. You'll
probably find the Savage in the cellar at my place -
that's if it isn't buried, like I nearly was."

There was a long silence, broken only by the
scratch, scratch, of the inspector's pen, as he rapidly
mdited a formal statement for the prisoner to sign
Once during its composition he halted for a brief

MS? !

ill
[ (

i lit 1 1 '

290 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
space and, leaning back in his chair, gazed long with
a sort of dreary sternness at the huge, unkempt figure
before him.

"Gully," he said slowly, "whatever in God's name
put it into your head to stand off the Police in the
way you did? Shooting those two poor chaps and
nearly putting the kibosh on five others I WhatevCT
did you hope to gain by it? You must have known
it was absolutely impossible for you to make your
get-away from us. Why, man! we had you cornered
like a wolf in a Uap. It was wors^i than silly and
useless and cruel for you to act in the way you did'"

■'Oh, my God! I don't know! " moaned Gully, rock-
ing despondently with his head in his hands. "I must
have gone clean mad for the time being. ...» He
gazed gloomily at Slavin and Yorke, muttering half
to himself: "What little things do trip a man up in
the end! The best laid schemes 0' mice and men!
But for my shooting those cursed dogs yesterday you'd
never, never have suspected me. The whole thing
would just have been filed and forgotten in time —
would just have remained one of those unfathomable
mysteries. Directly after I'd thrown down on those
curs I realized what a d d bad break I'd made —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 291
what my momentary loss of temper was going to cost
me. I could tell by the way you aU looked at me
what was in your minds. ...»

"Yes but how about that fishing expedition of ours,
Gully?" said Vorke. "You seem to have forgotten
that. And he related the story of Redmond's dive
•Ah!" retorted Gully, bitterly. "And yet you might
have got snagged a hundred times there and only jus'
cursed and snapped your line and reeled in, thinking it
was a log or something. . . . Well, as I was saying I
reahzed the jig was up after that dog business, and
directly I g3t home I began making preparations for
my get-away last night. If you'd all only have come
^alf an hour later than you did - That's what made
me so mad -just another half hour later, mind you
and I would have been away -en route for the Coast
by the night train."

Presently Kilbride threw aside his pen and straight-
ened up. "Now, listen, Gully!" he said. An/ he
read out the confession that he had composed fron. the
mam facts of the prisoner's remarkable statement

"Yes!" muttered Gully thoughtfully, as the insoec-
tor finished. "Yes, that will do, Kilbride. Give" me
the pen, please, and I will sign it. ..."

292 THiS LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

He proceeded to affix his signature, continuing with
a sort of deadly composure: "I have endorsed and
executed many death-warrants in my time — in my
capacity of Deputy-Sheriff — I little thought that some
day I might be called upon to sign my own . . .
which this document virtually is. ..."

He reared himself up to his huge, gaunt height, and
with a sweeping glance at his captors addfd: "Nothing
remains for me now I imagine, but to shake hands
with — Radcliffe.* ..."

And his dreadful voice died away like a single grim
note of a great, deep-toned bell, tolled perchance in
some prison-yard.

"Eshcorrt! Get ready!" boomed out Sergeant
Slavin's harsh command. The party was on the sta-
tion platform. Yorke and McSporran fell in briskly
on either side of their heavily-manacled prisoner, and
stood watching the distant lights of the oncoming east-
bound train as it rounded the Davidsburg bend.

One last despairing glance Gully cast about him at
the all familiar surroundings, then he raised his fet-
tered hands on high and lifted up his great voice:

*Note by Author — Canada's official executioner at tliia period.

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED ,93

"I have strivenl I have striven! -and now I J
Ohl there « no God. Bear witn« iere is no Godl
NoGodI . . "he cried to the heavens

Ihe wild, harsh, dreadful blasphemy rang far and
wide out .ntc U.e night, floating over the nearby river
and finally jying ^^^y a ghasUy murmur up among
the trniber-lined spurs of Crag Caiion

And a huge, gaunt lobo wolf, lying at the crest of
the draw, flung up his gray head and howled back his

rrLT~'""'"«'^ '° *^^°= "There is no GodI
no Uod!

CHAPTER XVI

"Fell my pidhe, ah, if you uant to, but It ato'( much

me to try — "
"Ntver say that," said tht Surfton, as he smothered

doum a sigh;
"Chueh a brace, lor it won't do, man, lor a soldier

to say diet"
"What you say don't make no diS'runce, Doctor, am' —

you viouUn't lie. ..."

"TBI OLB BnCtANT"

GIT THERE! Come a-Haw-r-r, theni Whoa!"
With a flourish, Constable Miles Sloan, the
Regimental Teamster, swung the leaders of
his splendid four-in-hand and pulled up at the front
entrance of the Holy Cross Hospital. Slewing around
on his high box-seat he addressed himself to the
drag's occupants, Slavin and Yorke.

"I don't know whether they will let you see him, or
not," he remarked doubtfully, "he's a pretty sick
man.''

"We will chance ut, anyway," mumbled Slavin, as
he and Yorke climbed out of the rig. "Ye'd best wait
awhile, Miles! We shan't be long."

>94

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 295
Quietly -very quietly, Sister Marthe opened the
door of room Number Fifty-six, and with list-slippered
noiselessness stepped out into the corridor

"Oh, Mon Dieul" she ejaculated, startled at the
sudden apparition of two scarlet-coated figures stand-
ing motionless ouUide the door, "Oh, m'sieurs, 'ow
you fnght mel" and the expressive eyes under the
white co.f and the shoulders and supple hands of the
French-Canadian Nursing-Sister made great play

Yorke saluted her with grave courtesy. "Sister"
he said anxiously, "how is Constable Redmond d^ng?
«-an we see him?"

She glanced irresolutely a moment at the handsome,
"nplormg countenance of the speaker, and then her
gaze flickered to his huge companion. The silent
wistful appeal she read in the latter's grim, cadaverous
face decided her.

"Eheul" she said softly, " 'e is a ver' seeck man
• . . but come then, m'sieurs, if you wish it I"
Cautiously they tip-toed into the room behind her
Yes! They decided, he was a "seeck" man all right'
So sick that he could not raise his flushed, hollow-
cheeked young face from the pillow to salute his com-
rades with his customary impious bonhomie. Now

i!'..

iitii

'.' '

r';

Jfeilir

296 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

gabbling away to himself in the throes of delirium,
ever his feverish eyes stared beyond the hospital-walls
westwards to Davidsburg.

With his brow contracted with an expression of vague
worry, he was living over and over again the memorable
night in which he had gotten his wound.

"Slavin! — Yorkey!" he kept repeating, in tones
of such yearning entreaty that moved those individuals
mc than they cared to show. Yes, they were both of
them Ihere, standing by the side of his cot; but the
poor sufferer's unseeing eyes betrayed no recognition.

The deep sorrow that oppressed Slavin and Yorke
just then those worthies rarely — if ever — alluded to
afterwards. Passing the love of women is the un-
spoken, indefinable spirit of true comradeship that
exists between some men.

For one brief, soul-baring moment the comrades
stared at each other, their self-conscious faces re-
flecting mutually their inmost feelings; then Yorke
turned to Sister Marthe.

"What does the Doctor say?" he whispered
anxiously.

The nurse was about to make answer when the
door was softly opened and that gentleman entered the

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 297

room, accompanied by Captain Bargrave and Inspector
Kilbride. '

Involuntarily, from long habit of discipline, Slavin
and Yorke, stiffened to "attention" in the presence of
their superiors, until, with a kindly, yet withal
slightly imperious gesture, the O.C. mutely
signified them to relax their formal attitude.
The Regimental Surgeon, Dr. Sampson, a tall,
gray-moustached, pleasant-faced man, nodded to
them familiarly and proceeded to m^k*. minute
examination of his patient's wound. From time
to Ume he questioned and issued low-voiced instructions
to Sister Martha. Perfectly motionless, the grave-
eyed quartette of policemen stood grouped around the
cot, silently awaiting the physician's verdict.

Throughout, poor Redmond had continued to toss
and rave incessantly. Much of his babbling was in-
coherent and fragmentary - breaking off short in the
middle of a sentence or dying away in a mumbling,
indistinct murmur. At intervals though, his voice rang
out with startling clearness.

^ "Ah-a-a! Here he is!" he cried out suddenly,
t'Ully! -all eyes were centred on the flushed, un-
quiet face and restless hands. There seemed a curious

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298 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

morbid fascination in watching the workings of that
sub-conscious mind. "No use, Gullyl You can't make
it from there!" — the twitchinE hands made a motion
as of leveUing a carbine — "No use, man 1 I've got you
covered. . . . You' better give in! . . ."

He paused for a space, panting feverishly, then his
eyes became wilder and his speech more rapid.

"No! no! Gully!" he gasped out imploringly, "it's
Yorkey, I tell you — oh, don't pick off Yorkey!
Drink? . . ." — tiie unnaturally bright eyes stared
unseeingly at the motionless figure of the O.C, stand-
ing at die foot of tiie cot — "Not so much — now —
since — looking aftei him. ... Not a bad chap. . . .
We fought once. ... Yes, Sir! . . . had — hell of a
fight! . . . Pax? . . . sure! —bless you! —buried
ruddy hatchet — auld lang syne — Slavin. ... St.
Agnes' Eve! . . . How he sings— ! Oh, shut up,
Yorkey! — Sings, I tell you — ! Hark! . . . that's
him singin' now— Listen! . . . What? . . . it's
Stevenson's 'Requiem'. . . . Burke! Burke! ... the

's always singin' that . . . goes — "

And the weak, fretful voice shrilled up in a quaver-
ing falsetto —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 299

"Under the wide - and - starry sky
Dig — the grave, and ~ let me — tie-

^'^,f^. '~^"'- """-ei^'y die,

Ana I laid — me dovm with — aw "

The shaky, pitiful tones died away i„ vague, in-
coherent mumblings.

Yorke uttered a queer choking sound in his throat
and turned h. face away from the little group. Slavin'
!" '"t ^°'»Prehending sympathy, laid a huge hand on'
U. outer's shoulder to steady him. In customary
Brmsh fashion, the O.C. and the Inspector strove to
mask the.r emotions under an exaggerated grimness of
m.en, only their eyes betraying their feelings. The
former toying with his sweeping, fair moustache in
agitated fashion, gazed drearily around the sick-room
till his stern, yet kindly old eyes finally came to rest
upon a framed scriptural quotation which was hanging
on the wall above the head of the c

In corpulent, garish, black, red and gold German
text the inscription ran:

At even, when the sun was set.
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
Ok in what divers pains they metl
Ok m what joy they went away I

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300 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

Abstractedly, the old soldier read and re-read the
verse till his eyes ached, and he was forced to lower
them and meet the tell-tale ones of Kilbride.

The Doctor, with a final satisfied scrutiny of his
patient's wound, which he had laid bare, bade the nurse
dress it afresh, then, beckoning to the others, he with-
drew from the room, followed by the O.C. and his
subordinates. The Doctor's first words reassured them
in no little degree.

"Oh, I've good hopes of him," he said. "He seems
to be doing all right. He'll pull around -that is,
unless any unforeseen complications set in. It's that
journey down here yesterday that's upset him. Ab-
solutely necessary under the circumstances, of course,
but — terribly hard on a man in his condition. I
think it'll be best for nobody to visit him — for awhile
anyway . . . must be kept as quiet as possible.
Well! let's have a look at the others!"

The remaining wounded men occupied a large, semi-
private ward lower down the corridor. Of these last
Hardy's case was by far the most serious. He had
been shot through the body; the high-pressure
Luger bullet luckily missing any vital organ. Mc-
Cullough had been drilled through the calf of his left

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 301

iLT"".*^'""^ "^^ ""' ^^ »«" had had the
knuckles stripped from his right hand. AH of thl
were^esung .uietly, though w^ f.. ,0. of ^Z
and the train journey.

The O.C. and Kilbride remained for a short time
-the ward, manifesting much kindly sympathy fo
the mjured men, then, deeming that perha^ the party
was re^rding the nurses' ministrations, the Q.C w ^
drew, beckoning his subordinates to follow him
Slavm and Yorke walked slowly down the hospital

gaaered up h.s hues and swung around on his high

ag2tr'«' """'"^ ''^'^'y- "Here you are

k S; We,f r '" *"' ^°" ^"^ '-«' - there for
Keeps ! Well, did you see him ?»

teZrJ '"'"'''' """■'' '""^'^^'y- ^--ding the
teamster's eyes, "We've seen him. Home, James!"

Finn, measured footsteps sounded in the hospital
corridor and halted with a Jingle of spurs outside^
door of room Number Fifty-six

"Come aboardi" came the dear, boyish voice of

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302 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

its occupant, in response to a ruckle-tattoo on the

panel, and the visitors, Slavin and Yorke, entered.

Redmond, sitting up in bed, comfortably propped
with pillows, threw aside the magazine he had been
reading and greeted the new-comers jovially and with
a light in his eyes which did the hearts of those
worthies good to see.

A month's careful nursing and absolute quiet had
transformed their wounded comrade into a somewhat
different being from the delirious patient they had
beheld when last they stood in that room. Allowing
for a slight emaciation and the inevitable hospital
pallor, he appeared to be well on the road to con-
valescence.
"Sit at ease!" he said, with a fair semblance of his

old grin. "Smoke up if you want to, they don't kick

about it here. I've tried it but it tastes rotten as yet.

Weill What's doin' in L?" (He referred to the

Division.)
"Hell, yu' mane," corrected Slavin grimly, as he

and Yorke proceeded to divest themselves of their

side-arms and unbutton their tunics. "Not much doin'

now, but — later, p'raps. . . ."
"Just got back from Supreme Court," explained

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 303

Yorke. "Guflyl . . . He's to be 'bumped off- this
day-month. ..."
There came a long, tense silence.

"G d!" broke out Yorke suddenly, arousing

Redmond out of the deep reverie into which he had
sunk on receipt of the news -"the look on that Eu-
gene Aram face of his . when tlie jury filed in and
threw the book at him! . I can't forget it somehow "
"Well! yeh want tu thin!" remarked Slavin blunUy
"Quit ut! . . . d'ju hear? . . . 'Tis no sort av
talk, that, for a sick room. ..."
And hereafter they all avoided the sinister subject
Presently McCullough came limping in on his
crutches, and ere long that wily individual succeeded
with his customary ingenuity in inveigling the com-
pany into a facetious barrack-room argument. Later
they commenced relating racy stories.

Slavin's deep-set eyes began to twinkle and glow
as he unburdened himself of a lengthy narrative con-
cermng a furlough he had spent in his native land
many years back, in which Ballymeen Races, a dis-
reputable "welshing" bookmaker, himself, a jug of
whiskey and a blackthorn stick were all hopelessly
muted in one grand Hibernian tangle.

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304 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

"Beat ut, he did, over hedge an' bog an' ditch, wid
all our money, th' dhirrty dog. But I cud run tu, in
thim days, an' whin I caught up I shure did play a
tchune on th' nob av uml" concluded the sergeant
thoughtfully. In pursuance of his daily round of the
wards, Dr. Sampson presently came swinging in
amongst them and saluted the party with his usual
breezy bonhomie. A universal favourite with the
members of the Force his entry was acclaimed with
delight. They promptly bade him sit down and con-
tribute -i la Boccaccio — to their impromptu De-
cameron, which rep'-^t he (sad to relate) complied
with.

Amid the roar of laughter that greeted the Doctor's
last bon mot, that gentleman looked ruefully at his
watch and prepared to depart.

"Twenty past twelve!" he ejaculated, "and I've got
four more patients to see yet. . . I Behold the re-
tarding influences of bad company!"

"Say, Doctor," enquired Yorke, "how's Hardy
doing? Is he bucking up at all? He was pretty down
in the mouth last time I saw him."

The Doctor's genial countenance clouded slightly.
"Well, no!" he said, gravely, "he's not doing well at

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 305
all. I've been rather worried over him lately. The
man's relapsed into a curious state of inertia — seems
incapable of being roused. Organically he's nothing
to fear now; I'll stake my professional reputation on
that. But when a man gets down like he is now, why,
the mind often reacts on the body with serious results.'
If he was in a tropical climate he'd snuff out like a
candle. That's all that's retarding his otherwise cer-

tam recovery now — if we could only "

Here, McCuUough, who had been an interested
listener broke in. "Rouse him, Doctor?" he queried,
"you say he wants rousing? . . . Is that all? .
All right then! . . .1 know him better than you
do — I'll bet you I'll rouse him!" he concluded a trifle
brutally.

And he swung off on his crutches and presently
levered himself into the ward where Hardy lay.

In actual bodily recovery the latter's physical con-
dition fully equalled Redmond's, but the brooding,
listless demeanor of the patient confirmed only too'
well the Doctor's diagnosis. Now, sunk in the coma
of utter dejection. Hardy was lying back on his pillows
like a man weary of life.

Sometime earlier, in response to his earnest solid-

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306 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

tetions, he had been allowed to have his beloved parrot
in hospital with him. All day long the disreputable-
looking bird gabbled away contentedly as it climbed
around in its cage, which had been placed on a small
table alongside the cot.

McCuUough's first move was to resort to the never-
failing expedient of arousing the parrot's ire by puffing
tobacco-smoke into its cage. Mechanically the out-
raged bird responded with a shocking blast of invec-
tive, winking rapidly its white parchment-lidded eyes
and swinging excitedly to and fro on its perch.

Hardy admonished the joker — lethargically, but
with a certain degree of malevolence in his weary
tones.

"Aw, chack it, Mac! " he drawled. "Wy carn't yer
let th' bleedin' bird alone? Yer know 'e don't like
that bein' done t'im. Jes' 'awk t'im tellin' yer as
much!"

McCullough turned on his crutches and leered
awhile upon the speaker with a sort of mournful
triumph, than he lifted up his voice in a very fair
imitation of Hardy's own unmusical wail

"Old soldiers never die, never die, never die.
Old soldiers never die — tkey simply fade aw-ay."

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 307

"I don't think I" he concluded sotto voce to Davis,
as that individual, sitting down on the next cot began
preparing his wounded arai for the ministraUons of
Sister Marthe who had just entered the ward.

"No use!" McCuIlough rambled on. "I tell yu* th'
man's as good as 'gone up.' Harry. . . . Weill
I'll have old Kissiwasti when he pegs out anyway. I
won't half smoke-dry th' old beggar then! I'U teach
him to swear. . . I"

"Ehl . . . 'Ere, wot abaht it?"

The cockney's voice held no trace of lethargy now.
The sharply-uttered, vindictive query was matched by
the blazing eyes which were regarding the farrier-
corporal with undisguised hostility.

"Wot abaht wot?" mimicked McCullough, though
his heart smote him for the cold-blooded evasion.

"Wot abaht wot you sed abaht me. . . ?"

"Well, wot abaht it. . . ?"

Speechless with rage, for a moment Hardy gazed
into the other's nonchalant mask-like visage, then, with
a gesture of maniacal impotence, he raised his clenched
fists high above his head.

Sister Marthe now judged it high time to inter-
vene. During the enactment of this little tableau she

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308 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED
had stood looking on in mute bewilderment. Despite
her imperfect knowledge of English, and especially the
vernacular, she had a shrewd intuition of what had
passed between the two men.

Seizing McCuIlough by the arm, despite his pro-
testations of injured innocence, she gently, but firmly,
escorted him out of the ward.

"VasI vasl— Now you go, M'sieu McCulloughl
... out of ze ward right-away! . . . Vat you
say — vat you do — I do not know, but you 'ave
excite 'im 'orriblel ... Oh, pardonnez^moi, Doc-
teur!" she ejaculated, as she bumped into that gentle-
man in the corridor.

"Hullo 1" said the latter inquiringly, as he reiiiai ■- d
the little nurse's flushed, angry face. "What's up.
Sister Marthe?"

For answer, that irate lady pointed accusingly to
McCuUough. That worthy, his questionable experi-
ment accomplished, was retreating up the corridor as
fast as his crutches could carry him.

"First, Docteur," began the nurse indignantly, " 'e
blow smoke in ze eye of ze parrot, then 'e turn roun' to
paume M'sieu 'Ardy an' 'e sing — oh, I 'ave not ze
English, but 'e blague 'im so —

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 309

"Vkwi loldtii M mtunntl iamaial famaltl lamahl
Vltu* soUali M KWiiml Iamaial — ib timfttrntnt faiatnH"

"An' M'sieu 'Ardy 'e say: 'Vat about?' an then 'e raise
'is two 'ands k Ciel — sol an' 'e tell Le Bon Dieu all
about it. Oh, 'ow 'e prayl Ecoutetl Docteur! you
can 'ear 'im now I . . ."

And awhile Doctor Sampson listened, a grim smile
lurking around the comers of his firm mouth, as he
leaned against the open door of the ward.

"Praying, Sister?" he ejaculated. "It's the queerest
kind of praying I've ever heard. But is it him — or is
it the parrot?"

Two days later he remarked to the O.C. and Kil-
bride: "I'm glad to be able to report a decided improve-
ment in that man Hardy's condition. His pulse is
stronger, his appetite is increasing and — he's be-
ginning to grouse. That old ruffian of a farrier-
corporal, McCullough, was right, begad! — he knew
the man better than I did. As a general rule I'm in-
clined to be rather sceptical of such drastic experi-
ments, but in certain cases, er — "

"Something of the sort might be beneficial if applied
to young Redmond, too," remarked the O.C, testily.
"He's down in the dumps now; though to give him his

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310 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

due ... he tries hard not to show it whenever I
happen to be in the hospital. Dudley, my Orderly-
room sergeant, is leaving next month — time-expired
— so I thought I was conferring a great favour on the
boy by promising him the step-up — good staff appoint-
ment — give him a chance to recuperate thoroughly.
But no! — my young gentleman courteously declines
my munificent offer. Nothing must serve him but
he must go back to me Irish 'ginthleman' and that

d d dissipated scamp of a Yorke."

"It's the spirit of comradeship," remarked Kil-
bride quietly. "If I might suggest. Sir, ... I think
it would be better if you do decide to let him go back
there. They pull well together and do good work,
those three."

'I 1

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"'UUo, Reddy!" called out Constable Hardy, as
he directed his wobbly steps towards the bench on the
hospital balcony where George was seated, " 'ow long
'ave you bin up 'ere? Th' O.C. an' Kilbride was
round jes' now. You didn't see 'em, eh?"

"No," answered Redmond listlessly. And thereupon
he relapsed into moody silence.

"W'y, wot's up?" enquired Hardy presently, scan-

THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED 311

nlng the other's downcast rnuntenance. "Wet's th'
matter wlv you, son? . . . you dop t Vok 'appy! . . ."

"You bet I'm not, eAt:!" burst out George sud-
denly. "The Old Man's . ►! ;.sJ .ne Dudley's job, but
I don't want a staif job. I want to go back to Davids-
burg. Who cares to be stuck around the Post?"

"Me for one!" retorted the old soldier grinning.
"Jes' now, anyway. Listen, son! Th' Old Man 'e sez
to me: ' 'Ardy!' 'e sez, 'you've bin 'it pretty bad and I
find you deserve a softer class of dewty than goin' back
t' prisoner's escort. I think I'U recommend you for
Provo'-Sorjint, in charge o' th' Guard-room, w'en you're
able t' return t' dewty,' 'e sez."

With an effort Redmond roused himself to the point
of congratulating the Cockney upon his prospective
promotion. He had no desire to act as a wet blanket
on such an auspicious occasion as this, his own troubles
notwithstanding.

"That ain't all," continued Hardy, with a gloating
chuckle. "Th' Old Man, 'e sez 'Belt's bein' invalided,
McCullough's gettin' 'is third stripe, an' Dyvis is goin'
dahn t' th' Corp'ril's Class at Regina, but that there
young Redmond worries me! I don't know wot t'
do abaht 'im,' 'e sez — jes' like that — sorter kind-

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312 THE LUCK OF THE MOUNTED

like — not a bit like th' O.C. o' a Division torkin' t'
a buck private.

" 'Beg yer pardon, Sir!' I sez, 'but if you let 'im go
back t' Dyvidsburg I fink 'e'U be quite contented.
Seems like 'e wants t' be wiv Sorjint Slavin an' Con-
stable Yorke agin.'

" 'Fink so?' sez 'e, pullin' 'is oweld moustache, 'I
sure do, Sir,' I sez. 'So be it, then!' 'e sez, turnin' t'
Kilbride, but th' Inspector 'e sez nothin' — 'e on'y
larfs. An' then they went away."

Redmond, giving vent to a delighted oath, came out
of his sulks on the instant.

"Hardy!" he cried, "you're a gentleman! . . ."

"Nay!" was the other's disclaimer. "A dranken
oweld soweljer-son . . . that's all."

But Redmond heard him not. With elbows resting
upon the balcony-rail he was looking beyond the Elbow
Bridge, beyond Shagnappi Point — westwards to
Davidsburg, his face registering the supreme content
of a man who had just attained his heart's desire.

THE END

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